Sirius on the Rum
by PrincessEilonwy
Summary: Oh, what a silly misprint. Of course that's supposed to be run, not rum. After all, we all know Sirius Black would never get drunk, right?
1. Sirius Arrives

Disclaimer: Remus Lupin and Sirius Black belong to J.K. Rowling. A pity, but true. **Sigh**  
  


It would have been a dark and stormy night if it hadn't been such a sunny afternoon. As Sirius Black ambled through the woods, he was trying to whistle. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be working.  
  


This was because Sirius was a dog, and dogs are notoriously bad at whistling. Still, with a lot of imagination he managed to convince himself that he was whistling an old drinking song and continued on, oblivious to the torture he was inflicting on the innocent, defenseless forest creatures.  
  


In his ramshackle ruin of a house at the edge of the woods, Remus Lupin heard a strange howling noise and rushed out with a bucket of water ready to douse the neighborhood cats. The cacophony seemed to come from somewhere in the trees directly in front of his house, so he took careful aim and threw the water.  
  


Apparently he hit the target, for next moment a sopping black mass came hurtling out of the forest and threw itself on Remus. Startled, he went down with a thud. The enormous dog got up, shook itself, and started bouncing around Remus, tongue lolling with excitement.  
  


Remus got up and brushed himself off, grimacing at the muddy paw prints now adorning his favorite Muggle sweater. "Sirius, you idiot," he muttered, shaking his head at the oversized dog now bounding in circles for no apparent reason. Sirius tilted his head up at him and whined.  
  


"Well, I guess I'll have to let you in," Remus groused as he stomped back over to his house and flung the door open. Sirius trotted in before Remus could stop him. Remus gritted his teeth and hid his clenched fists in his pockets as he surveyed the trail of mud that led from the front door all the way to the…kitchen! He quickly shut the door and hurried down the hall, afraid of what he might find.  
  


It was as he had feared. Standing in the kitchen doorway, he could see Sirius busily opening cabinets and removing various items. Yes, it was terrible but true.  
  


Sirius was cooking again.  
  
A/N: Sorry that was kind of short, but I thought that was a perfect place to end the chapter. As you can see, Sirius is not simply your typical messy, gluttonous slob. He's a messy, gluttonous slob who cooks his own food. I also realize that so far, there has been no rum involved. But don't worry, that'll come in the next chapter. Heh heh heh. **Rubs hands together evilly**


	2. The Best Rum Cake Ever!

Disclaimer: I wish I was the genius responsible for creating these characters, but unfortunately that honor goes to J.K.Rowling.  
  
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my mom because once she got one of those funny e-mails called "The Best Rum Cake Ever." This recipe bears a marked resemblance to what Sirius does in this chapter. Hee hee hee...  
  
The Best Rum Cake Ever!  
  
Remus stood speechless in the kitchen doorway, watching Sirius bang pots around and grab apparently random items off shelves. He swallowed hard. This was a frightening development, but nothing he couldn't handle. He entered the kitchen.  
  
"Um, Sirius...Perhaps you ought to wash up a little before you start cooking." Remus started mentally lining up other excuses to delay the inevitable. Sirius looked confused. "You know, wash your hands and all...say, maybe you could even take a long, long, long shower. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"  
  
Sirius looked down at his muddy hands ruefully. "I guess you're right," he said at last. "A good cook always washes his hands. And I would like a shower." Remus's heart leaped. Maybe he would have time to hide all the cooking ingredients before Sirius came back.  
  
"The bathroom's that way," said Remus, pointing. If Sirius thought Remus seemed suspiciously eager to get him out of the kitchen, he didn't say anything. As he went down the hallway, Remus could hear him humming the theme song from his favorite cooking show.  
  
As soon as Sirius had vanished into the bathroom, Remus sat down at the dining room table and banged his head on it a few times. It was all going to start again...the Vicious Cycle of Cooking. Sirius would fix something for a party, and at the party he would meet someone to trade recipes with, thus gaining new recipes for his enormous collection. And of course, Remus would have to taste everything the first time Sirius made it to tell him if it was any good.  
  
"Right," Remus said briskly, suddenly getting up and breaking out of his self-pitying reverie. "Now where can I hide all this stuff?" He looked at all the junk on his counter. Most of it, he decided, would probably fit in the tiny shed in his backyard. Remus filled his arms with measuring cups, cartons of eggs, and sticks of butter and headed outside.  
  
After the fifth trip, when he finally got rid of the last of the wooden spoons, Remus discovered the shed would barely close. "That's finished, then," he said cheerfully to a sparrow sitting on the back fence, rubbing his hands gleefully as he went back to the kitchen to inspect the newly emptied counter.  
  
Remus stopped short in horror. Of all the things he could have forgotten...  
  
The economy-size bags of sugar and flour remained smack dab in the middle of the kitchen floor.  
  
Panicking as he heard the water in the bathroom stop running, Remus hoisted the bags with some difficulty and staggered out the back door. He looked around wildly. Maybe the shed had just enough room...he hurried over to it, panting.  
  
Remus started to open the door, but it was bulging alarmingly. Curses. In desperation, Remus simply dropped the sugar and flour next to the shed and hoped Sirius wouldn't look outside.  
  
He got back inside just in time to meet Sirius coming back down the hall, his black hair hanging over his face. Sirius shook it back, spraying the kitchen with water, and grinned at Remus like a little boy.  
  
"I guess it's time to start the cooking," he said excitedly.  
  
"It is, indeed," replied Remus, hoping his smile didn't look too wolfish. He was looking forward to watching Sirius's exuberance turn to desperation as he searched the now-bare kitchen for the ingredients he would never find.  
  
"I got this great recipe from Dumbledore a few days ago," Sirius went on, oblivious to the fact that Remus seemed almost manically happy. He unfolded a worn piece of parchment and laid it on the table. Sirius bounded into the kitchen, then stopped in his tracks. Turning to Remus, brow furrowed, he asked, "Where's all the stuff I took out?"  
  
Remus shrugged and tried to look concerned while inwardly rejoicing. "Stuff? Oh, that's right, you did get some stuff out, didn't you? Sorry, haven't seen it." He made a show of looking around the kitchen carefully, then met Sirius's eyes innocently.  
  
Unfortunately, Sirius's gaze drifted over his shoulder out into the backyard. [Don't look at the shed,] Remus prayed. [Don't look at the...]  
  
"You seem to have some flour in your backyard," Sirius observed cautiously, looking at him rather strangely.  
  
Remus thought fast. "Oh, really?" He snapped his fingers in disappointment. "Darn, I must've forgotten to bring it in when the...flourman...dropped it off on Tuesday. That's the third time this month!"  
  
Sirius's eyebrows shot up. "The flourman, Remus? That's rather unusual. But very convenient for me, since you don't seem to have any in here." Before Remus could think up some way to stop him, he went out the back door and crossed to the shed.  
  
Knowing he had only seconds to stop his friend, Remus instinctively reached for the parchment Sirius had left on the table. Without looking at it, he methodically shredded it into little bits and pushed them off the edge of the table, where they blended in flawlessly with the beige linoleum.  
  
Sirius straightened up with the bags. As he did so, the edge of the shed roof caught the back of his head. With a yelp of pain, he furiously kicked the shed. Remus thought of the bulging contents within and covered his face with his hands.  
  
When he looked up again, Sirius was watching in astonishment as a river of cooking ingredients cascaded by him. Remus moaned in despair as Sirius looked up at him, bewildered. "What the heck was that?" he shouted at Remus, who shrugged and tried to look as that was where he had always kept his kitchen implements.  
  
Stepping carefully over the various measuring cups, spoons, and bowls, Sirius made his way back to the house, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. "Remus," he began firmly, "do you know anything about-" His gaze fastened on the empty table.  
  
"Remus, where is my recipe?" Remus felt a sudden urge to laugh maniacally. [It's gone, hah-HAH! You'll never see your precious recipe again, Padfoot! *Hallelujah, Hallelujah...*] Outwardly, though, he put on his best puzzled, hurt face.  
  
"Sirius, do you honestly believe I would stoop so low as to steal your recipe? I mean, that would be the basest of acts...would an old friend do that to you?"  
  
"Riiiiigghht," Sirius said, making sure the table was between him and Remus. Then his face brightened with a sudden thought. "Good thing I had two copies of it!"  
  
"WHAT!?!?" As soon as the roar of rage escaped him, Remus realized he'd just blown any hope of pretending he had nothing to do with any of this. Sirius favored him with an extremely suspicious look, but continued. As he talked, he produced another scrap of parchment from his pocket, keeping it carefully out of Remus's reach.  
  
"Since I lose things from my pockets all the time, I figured I'd write it out twice," Sirius explained happily, waving the parchment while Remus ground his teeth in fury. "And now..." he cleared his throat, unfolded the parchment, and held it up reverently before him. "Master Padfoot, chef extraordinaire, is proud to present...'Olivia Dumbledore's Rum Cake.' "  
  
Remus paled. If it was what it sounded like, it would need...But he didn't want to think about that. He walked over behind Sirius to read the recipe over his shoulder. Unfortunately, all the ingredients required seemed to be in his yard where Sirius could get at them. Except the...  
  
"Come on," Sirius said abruptly, dragging Remus out the door with him. "You're going to help me with this."  
  
"I am? I mean, I am!" Remus amended hastily, seeing the determination in Sirius's face. Sirius stopped just outside the door and began to read off the parchment.  
  
"Okay Remus, I need eggs, flour, butter, sugar, salt..." The list went on and Remus grudgingly fetched the required items until Sirius had a fair- sized pile at his feet. Sirius picked up all of it in one armful and carried it back inside, Remus grumbling at his heels. "I cannot believe I'm actually helping you *cook.*"  
  
Inside, Sirius turned his back for a second to turn on the oven. Remus seized his opportunity. He picked up the only carton of unbroken eggs and dropped it on the floor. Sirius turned, incensed, and Remus was suddenly looking in a totally different direction.  
  
Smoldering with rage, Sirius stomped over to the table. "That's it," he seethed. "You. Will. Stay. Away. From. That. Table. Or I will have to hurt you badly." Remus cowered. Sirius picked up the carton of mush and inspected the damage grimly. Then he grinned suddenly and punched the air in triumph.  
  
"What?" asked Remus, with a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming. Sirius jubilantly showed him the open carton, where four unbroken eggs lay mocking him with their perfect little white shells. "Grrr..." Sirius looked at him quizzically and he quickly said, "Grreat! Oh, Sirius, I'm so happy you found those eggs. For a minute I thought we weren't going to be able to have any rum cake." [The happiest minute of my life...]  
  
Sirius turned his attention once more to the recipe and said, "I think we have everything now. Except the rum." Remus broke out in a cold sweat as Sirius's eyes swiveled toward the refrigerator. He knew what he must do to save civilization as we know it.  
  
Remus darted in front of the refrigerator door, glaring at Sirius. "Oh no you don't," he spat in an enraged voice he scarcely recognized as his own. "Not *my* rum, Sirius. Wild horses couldn't drag my rum out of this refrigerator."  
  
"Oh, come on, Remus," Sirius coaxed. "It's for *cake.* And besides, I bet you never drink it anyway." He tried unsuccessfully to pry Remus away from the refrigerator.  
  
"How do you know that?" demanded Remus indignantly. [I sure could use some right about now,] he thought, wishing he'd left Sirius outside where he'd found him. Or better yet, poured boiling oil on him instead of water.  
  
Sirius forced Remus's hand away from the refrigerator door handle. He was getting close to opening it. Desperately, Remus sank his teeth into Sirius's arm. Sirius hung on grimly, fighting to open the door. At last, he shook Remus off and the door flew open.  
  
Sirius pawed through the contents of the refrigerator and emerged victorious, clutching the bottle of rum. "Now," he announced, "we can finally make our cake."  
  
"Who's we?" Remus inquired sullenly, rubbing new bruises as he got up off the floor. "I am *not* going to help you make that..." He tried to think of something suitably insulting. "That...*cake!*" [Brilliant, Remus.]  
  
"Maybe you're right," Sirius said. "You have been acting kind of...strange...today. Why don't you just watch?" He started measuring the flour.  
  
Remus thought longingly of his wand, lying in his bedroom, and had a sudden inspiration. "You know, Sirius, I'm really tired." He faked a huge yawn. "I think I'll go lie down for a while."  
  
He sprinted down the hallway to his room and stopped only when he reached his bed, where he'd left his wand. It wasn't there. Remus stared in shock at the empty space on the quilt. An icy terror filled him at the thought of facing Olivia Dumbledore's Rum Cake without his wand to help him.  
  
Crawling under the bed, he searched the floor thoroughly, but found no sign of the wand. Desperately, Remus ransacked his room, understanding for the first time that cliché about the needle in the haystack. Suddenly, a thought hit him.  
  
Oh. No. His bedroom was on the way to the bathroom. A horrible suspicion growing in the back of his mind, Remus raced back to the kitchen.  
  
"Sirius," he demanded angrily, "where is my wand?" Sirius finished breaking the eggs before he answered.  
  
"I don't know, Remus," he replied sarcastically. "Maybe you forgot to bring it in when the wandman dropped it off on Monday."  
  
"I know you took it, Sirius," Remus continued, "and if you give it back now, I won't hurt you-badly. Hand over the wand and no one will get hurt," he said, beginning to circle the table toward Sirius.  
  
Sirius held up his wand then, taunting him. "Come and get it, Remus," he teased. Remus didn't dare, of course. Normally he would have been a match for Sirius, but with a wooden spoon the man was invincible.  
  
Instead, Remus watched helplessly as Sirius continued adding ingredients to the mix. When he was almost done, he picked up the rum bottle.  
  
"Cooking lesson number one," he said knowledgeably, opening it and licking his fingers noisily. "Always taste liquor first to make sure it's good quality." Sirius took a long drink from the bottle and smacked his lips. "Mmm, strong stuff. And *very* good quality. I think. Better have some more to make sure." After about ten more swallows, Sirius pronounced the rum "shatishfactory" and proceeded.  
  
Remus was starting to be scared now, but everything went well until Sirius had added the last of the butter to the batter. Then he reached for the rum again. On the second try he grabbed it and pulled it toward him. "Caking leshon number three," he proclaimed, holding up four fingers. "Never ashume the rum ish shtill good. Alwaysh try it again to make sure." Sirius took another long swig. Remus hadn't known he could hold his breath that long.  
  
When he came up for air, Sirius seemed very happy with the quality of the rum and said so in considerably slurred tones. "It'sh time to add it, then," he said happily. Remus was trying to decide whether Sirius was drunk enough for him to try and get his wand back. He decided against it, as Sirius was still sufficiently sober to wield his spoon menacingly. Meanwhile, Sirius poured a liberal dose of rum into the mixing bowl and an even more liberal amount on the tablecloth.  
  
Picking up the recipe, he held it very close to his face and scanned the parchment, looking puzzled. "Hey, Remush, can you read thish for me? It sheemsh to be upshide down." Remus took the parchment and turned it right side up with a sigh.  
  
"It says now you pour the whole thing down the drain and go to bed for a few hours," Remus told Sirius, hoping he sounded convincing.  
  
"Lemme shee that," said Sirius suspiciously. Reluctantly, Remus handed over the recipe. [Oh well, it was worth a try.]  
  
"Plashe in golden brown oven for twenty minutesh," Sirius read, glaring at Remus over the top of the parchment. "All righty then." Clumsily, he spooned the batter into a cake pan. Picking it up, he opened the door and shoved it in...  
  
Remus felt he had to say something. "Sirius? Perhaps you hadn't noticed, but that's not the oven. That's the freezer."  
  
Sirius took a closer look. "Oh. Sho it ish." He located the oven and pushed the pan in, slamming the door behind it. "Now all we have to do ish wait twenty minutesh." Setting the timer carefully for forty-seven minutes, he sat down in the dining room. Remus slumped into a chair too, wondering how he could escape before it was too late.  
  
"Tell you what, Sirius. You must be pretty tired from all that baking. Why don't you just go have a nice long nap on the couch? Don't worry, I'll take care of the cake." [Oh boy, will I! First I'll chop it into little tiny pieces, and then I'll feed it to the garbage disposal, and then I'll CELEBRATE! And I will never drink again as long as I live.]  
  
But Sirius wasn't listening to him. His thoughts, such as they were, were obviously somewhere far away. Suddenly, his eyes widened, as if with an idea. "You know who would enjoy thish cake, Remush?"  
  
[The International Masochists Society?] "Who, Sirius?"  
  
"Harry!" Sirius cried triumphantly. Remus froze in horror.  
  
"NO, Sirius, I really don't think that's a good idea, I'm pretty sure Harry doesn't like rum cake," Remus babbled, trying to save Harry from this horrible fate. But it was too late. Sirius had made up his mind.  
  
He got up from the table and weaved into the living room, Remus in hot pursuit. Too late, Remus remembered that his broomstick was out in plain view.  
  
By the time he caught up with him, Sirius was already out the front door and mounting the broomstick-backward. He quickly rectified this error, though, and Remus barely had time to grab hold of the handle.  
  
This was a big mistake. As Remus would have recalled if he'd been thinking straight, the average wizard is not strong enough to hold down a rising broomstick. Instead, Remus found himself dangling in midair as Sirius gleefully performed loop-the-loops and figure eights before taking off for Number 4 Privet Drive.  
  
It was going to be an interesting evening.  
  
A/N: That was long. But it makes up for the first chapter, plus I had so many ideas I couldn't leave them out of the story. I realize Sirius didn't even start getting drunk till about two-thirds of the way through, but I figured if I was going to make Remus a real psycho, I'd do a proper job of it. Poor Remus probably doesn't deserve it, but Sirius gets so much of the rap I figured I'd even it out a little. I also decided not to involve any magic because it's funnier that way. This chapter made me a little mad because I wrote almost the whole thing perfectly and then my computer erased about half of it, but I think I reconstructed it pretty well. I probably invented the International Masochists Society (I hope I did!) but I subconsciously got the inspiration from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy-thank you, Arthur Dent! Coming Soon: Chapter Three, The Dog Who Came to Dinner. 


	3. The Dog Who Came to Dinner

Disclaimer: Am I lucky enough to own any of these characters? No, J.K.Rowling gets all the luck.  
  
A/N: The title for this chapter is from a movie called The Man Who Came to Dinner, about a guy who came to dinner and slipped on the front steps and broke his leg as he was leaving. So when he finally healed enough to leave, he slipped on the steps again and rebroke his leg. This is probably not what I'm going to do with the story, but I figured the title was appropriate. I noticed that all of my ellipses are showing up as periods, and I think I fixed the problem, but even if I didn't you can probably figure out which one's which. By the way, if anyone knows how to get italic and bold lettering to show up in stories, TELL ME! Having to use the little asterisks drives me crazy.  
  
The Dog Who Came to Dinner  
  
Any amateur stargazers in Little Whinging that evening would have been astonished to see what appeared to be an extremely old and drunken broomstick careening through the skies. On closer inspection, however, it would have revealed itself to be simply an extremely old broomstick with a drunken rider.  
  
This was scant comfort to Remus Lupin as he clung to the broomstick. In fact, Remus's state of mind could at this moment best be described as "miserable." He had failed in all his attempts to save the world from the horrors shortly to be unleashed upon it. Also, fast broomstick rides made him sick.  
  
[Hang on, Remus,] he told himself sternly. [Yes, Sirius is apparently planning to visit his godson while drunk. And yes, he may get both of us killed by Harry's psychotic Muggle relatives. But other than that, there's really nothing to worry about.]  
  
Somehow, this didn't help.  
  
The broomstick screeched to a halt directly above the bushes along Number 4 Privet Drive's front walk. "Thish the right houshe?" Sirius muttered, peering down at it. "Yup." Abruptly, they dropped the last five feet and crashed into the bushes, which turned out to be a little pricklier than Remus would have liked.  
  
As he tried to disentangle himself from the evil shrub, Remus was horrified to see Sirius emerging from the branches and staggering up the walk toward the door. He fought harder and earned himself a few more rips in his clothing.  
  
It looked as if Sirius was having difficulty finding the doorbell. He poked at various bricks and door panels until he found it, apparently by trial and error. Remus had almost got free when a skinny, horse-faced woman opened the door, staring at Sirius suspiciously.  
  
"Good evening, madam," Sirius slurred, extending his left hand to shake. "You musht be Mrsh. Durshley. I'm Harry'sh godfather and I'm here to shee him, if I may." Mrs. Dursley looked as if she was about to scream, but looked toward the dining room and changed her mind.  
  
"Don't you dare come near this house!" she hissed in a venomous whisper, starting to close the door as Remus tore himself away from the bushes and dashed over.  
  
"I'm so sorry he disturbed you, ma'am," Remus panted, starting to drag an unwilling Sirius away from the door. Before he could get him down the steps, a booming voice rang out behind him, freezing him in his tracks.  
  
"Who's this, Petunia?" roared the enormous woman filling the doorway. "Traveling salesmen?"  
  
"N-no, Marge, they just have the wrong house-"  
  
Over Mrs. Dursley's feeble protests, she stumped over and seized Remus's arm. "They look half starved," she boomed heartily, giving him a good- natured shake that made his teeth rattle. "Better get some meat on these bones, eh?" Then she headed back inside with Remus and Sirius in tow.  
  
Remus's only thought was to get out of the house before something terrible happened. Since this didn't seem likely at the moment, he decided to shoot for keeping Sirius quiet. Such a task was never easy, but it would be near impossible with Sirius drunk.  
  
As Marge, whoever she was, dragged them into the dining room, Mrs. Dursley fluttered over to a large, beefy man (presumably Mr. Dursley) and whispered hysterically in his ear. He gave Remus a look of pure hatred that would have curdled his marrow if Sirius hadn't already done that several times that afternoon.  
  
[Act normal, act normal, pretend you're not scared out of your wits,] Remus told himself firmly. At this point, he noticed Harry, who was sitting across the table from him and looking stunned. "What are you doing here?!" Harry mouthed at Remus.  
  
This was a good question. But before he could start thinking about the answer, Marge shoved him into a chair and pushed it in, knocking the wind out of him. Sirius was forced into a chair next to him. "Well, you shee, I really can't shtay very long," Sirius started. "Becaushe I'm really here to-"  
  
"Talk with me about drills!" Mr. Dursley bellowed quickly, drowning out the rest of his sentence. Sirius looked surprised.  
  
"But I thought-" Remus gave him a vicious kick under the table and he shut up. Harry was now staring from Sirius to Remus to Mr. Dursley with a look that said, "Why can't I ever just have a normal life like everyone else?" Remus understood perfectly, having had this feeling every time he had ever gone anywhere with Sirius.  
  
"Why don't you introduce your little friends, Vernon?" boomed Marge, pouring what was obviously her third or fourth glass of wine. Remus kicked Sirius hard to keep him silent, but he had already started.  
  
"I'm Shi-"  
  
"-dney Brown," Remus finished, cutting him off before he could reveal his true identity. [If we get home alive, Sirius, I will personally kill you.] "And I'm Remus Lupin. Pleased to meet you, Miss, um, Miss..." He trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"Marjorie Dursley," she said jovially. "Call me Marge, everyone does." She abruptly turned on Harry. "Well, boy?" she demanded sharply. "Why aren't you serving the gentlemen their supper? Go get some more plates!"  
  
Remus was starting to feel nervous. The last thing he wanted was Sirius staying here long enough to let something slip. "Oh, no, we couldn't possibly," he explained. "You see, we have to get back home before...um..." [Before we're murdered by Harry's uncle and aunt? Before the Ministry of Magic catches us? Before I go insane and murder Sirius myself?] None of these sounded like good excuses to give at the moment.  
  
"Nonsense, you must stay for supper. Isn't that right, Petunia?" Mrs. Dursley looked as though she had just been asked to agree that Harry was a wonderful child. Marge paid no attention to her silence and continued.  
  
"This is my wonderful nephew, Dudley. Dudders, these nice men are here to talk to Daddy about drills." For the first time, Remus noticed the fattest boy he'd ever seen sitting next to Harry. Dudley looked bored out of his skull, but managed to give his aunt a sappy, sickly smile.  
  
[Oh my gosh,] Remus suddenly realized. [I know absolutely nothing about drills. Guess I'll just have to bluff my way through. But how am I going to keep Sirius quiet?]  
  
"Boy!" Marge roared suddenly. "I told you to get these men some supper. Get your rear in gear!" Harry jumped, surprised, and headed toward the kitchen. Marge turned back to Sirius and Remus. "Would you like some wine?" she asked, hiccupping slightly as she held out the bottle for their inspection.  
  
Aghast at the prospect of Sirius having more liquor, Remus tried to hide it before he caught sight of it. "I think we'd better not," he told Marge. "Low tolerance." [For idiots who get themselves drunk making cake...]  
  
"Low toleranshe? Nonshenshe," Sirius proclaimed indignantly. "Give me shome of that." He made a grab for the wine and luckily missed, tipping over Remus's water glass instead. Remus suddenly wanted to bang his head very hard against the nearest wall. Of course, he would happily settle for doing the same to Sirius.  
  
Marge laughed. "Don't worry about the water, Mr. Brown. You!" she barked at Harry, who was returning from the kitchen with food. "Clean up this mess!" Harry unceremoniously banged Remus's plate down in front of him and did likewise for Sirius. Remus distinctly saw him roll his eyes as he went to fetch the paper towels.  
  
The Dursleys, with the exception of Marge, had barely said a word since Sirius and Remus had entered the house. Now Mr. Dursley cleared his throat uncomfortably and spoke.  
  
"So, uh, Remus, how's the drill business going?" Remus tried to think of something intelligent to say and failed miserably.  
  
"Um, well, there are some good...uh...drill bits coming out these days, I hear," he hedged, silently grateful that he knew at least that much about Muggle power tools and that Sirius was now quietly playing with his green beans instead of making trouble. Meanwhile, he stealthily snatched the wine bottle and uncorked it under the table. Then he looked around for a convenient receptacle.  
  
As Mr. Dursley started on some lecture about the increasing quality of Grunnings's products, Remus spotted a potted plant behind him and to his left. Nonchalantly, he transferred the bottle to his left hand and swung his arm over the back of the chair. Ignoring the incredulous looks he was getting from Dudley, he carefully took aim and tipped the bottle. He felt sympathy for the poor fern, which would most likely never get over this watering, but at least the rest of them were out of danger for the present.  
  
"Where's your car, Mr. Brown?" Marge asked suddenly. "I didn't see it when I went outside." [Don't say anything, Sirius, keep building your green bean cabin,] Remus begged.  
  
"It's parked down the street," he lied quickly before Sirius could tell her they'd arrived by broomstick and it was parked in the bushes. He felt he was getting into the swing of this conversation and was about to compliment Mrs. Dursley on the tough, stringy pot roast when a loud scratching sound issued from outside the front door, followed by a loud bark.  
  
Marge jumped up at once and ran to the door. "Aw, is my wittle Wipper weady to come in now?" She returned carrying an enormous, fierce-looking dog, presumably Ripper, worrying a large stick. "Has Wipper been pwaying fetch with himself? Oh, what a cwever dog!"  
  
As Marge sat down cradling Ripper, Remus got a better look at the stick the dog had. Smooth but dull wood, emblazoned with swirling golden script: Twiggy 300. He went rigid with shock, staring at the remains of the broomstick that had served him more or less adequately for the last twenty- odd years.  
  
Terrible, frightening thoughts flashed through his mind in rapid succession. A half-forgotten memory of someone down in the village by the woods, telling him it was 13.65 kilometers to Surrey. [No way can I drag Sirius 13.65 kilometers...] Followed closely by a vision of the Dursley house reduced to a pile of smoldering woodchips, a victim of Sirius's borderline pyromaniac tendencies. There would undoubtedly have been still more horrific images if Remus's reverie had not been interrupted by a more immediate problem.  
  
Sirius was growling at Ripper.  
  
A/N: As you can see, neither Sirius nor Remus broke his leg in the course of this chapter. However, they are stranded for the present, a situation which is becoming increasingly dangerous. I'm afraid this chapter wasn't as funny as the second one, but I personally think that was the best and there will be no more quite like it. Oh well...Coming Soon: Who Let the Dogs Out? 


	4. Who Let the Dogs Out?

Disclaimer: I don't own Sirius, Remus, Harry, the Dursleys, and Ripper, who are all owned by J.K. Rowling, or the song "Who Let the Dogs Out?" which I think is owned by the Baha Men.  
  
A/N: And so another adventure begins...that of writing another chapter. I'm having a harder time with this chapter than I did with the second one, but I'll try my best and as long as you like it, whatever floats your boat, right? Review please!  
  
Who Let the Dogs Out?  
  
This wasn't much worse than Remus could ever have imagined, but it was pretty close. If Sirius's dog instincts took over, they would all be in big trouble, especially Remus. After weighing all the facts carefully, Remus quickly came to the conclusion that this could get very nasty.  
  
It did. In response to Sirius's behavior, Ripper's hackles rose and he also bared his teeth threateningly. As Marge tried to calm him, Remus caught phrases like "naughty Wipper mustn't bodder the nice gentewman," and "Oh wook! Dere's that scumbag Hawwy! Doesn't he wook appetizing? Mmm- mmm! Now why don't you just weave Mistew Bwown awone?" He realized that unless he stopped Sirius, even promises of mauling Harry after dinner wouldn't stop Ripper from going for his throat.  
  
"Oh, Sir-Sidney, you old teaser," he said jovially, putting an arm around Sirius's shoulder and unobtrusively pinching him so hard that he actually shut up for a second. "Knock it off. I'm sorry, he's always doing this to people's pets," he added for Marge's benefit, although he really needn't have bothered. He suspected she was so dense that if a flock of Ministry owls came through the window, she'd start complaining about birds migrating out of season.  
  
The act wasn't working on Mr. Dursley, who was now giving Remus murderous looks whenever Marge looked away, but Remus decided that since he was at the other end of the table he wasn't a major concern for the moment. Instead, he focused on the ever-more-depressing state of affairs. If he could, he wanted to get Sirius out of there before he lost control and turned into a dog. Besides getting him in trouble with the Ministry, it could also get them both killed by Harry's psychotic relatives.  
  
Before he could really start thinking properly about workable solutions to his dire problem, he realized with horror that Sirius's shoulder was changing in his grasp. It was becoming more rounded and-could it be?- furry. [No, this is not happening, my best friend is not doing something terminally stupid that will get us both killed, everything is going to be just fine...]  
  
It was apparently one of those numerous instances where the power of positive thinking is negligible. Sirius was indeed turning into his canine self. The only remotely comforting thing about the situation was that Marge hadn't seen, though the rest of the table had and Mrs. Dursley was only with difficulty stifling a scream. All of Dudley's two dozen chins folded into each other as his jaw dropped. Harry's expression hadn't changed much; it still said, "Why does this always happen to *me*?" Remus thought this a very good question, but it didn't look as though he would have any time to answer it right now.  
  
Marge interrupted his musings, such as they were, with a shriek. Her eyes were fixed firmly on Sirius, and her eyes were wide with shock. [Oh, no,] Remus thought. [This is it...something's finally going to get through that thick skull of hers.] He waited for the blow to fall.  
  
"What is that mongrel doing here?" she demanded in a high-pitched voice, her face going a lovely shade of deep purple that matched Mr. Dursley's exactly. Sirius's tail stopped wagging at this insult, and Remus only hoped he wouldn't attack her. "And where has dear Mr. Brown gone?" Apparently Remus's original estimate of her mentality and imagination had been right on the money, since she still hadn't noticed anything even slightly unusual going on.  
  
"Um, he just, uh, went out to the car to get some...drill bits," Remus lied, not sure if even Marge was dumb enough to buy that one. She was.  
  
"My, he certainly moves fast," she boomed. "But that dog!" She glared at Sirius suspiciously. "How did he get in?" Remus was getting really tired of having to think up new lies to cover for Sirius, but the alternative, giving Marge an opportunity to work out what was going on herself, sounded like even less fun. He sighed inwardly.  
  
"Perhaps you left the door open when you let Ripper in," he suggested. Alas, if only Sirius was a stray dog. Then he and Ripper might actually get along tolerably. Unfortunately, he was a drunk Animagus instead, a combination which, in Remus's experience, always led to trouble such as eviction from bars, abrupt endings to promising dates, and...dogfights. Speaking of...  
  
Ripper had now escaped from Marge's affectionate stranglehold and was preparing to launch himself at Sirius. He didn't seem perturbed by the fact that Sirius was roughly twice his size, only eager to start the fight. Lamentably, the feeling appeared to be mutual. Remus tried to hold Sirius back, but this was no easy task at the best of times, let alone when Sirius was an enormous, tipsy dog.  
  
With a growl, Sirius tackled Ripper and they went rolling around the dining room in a blur of black fur and flashing teeth. Marge jumped up with a cry and seized a walking stick by her chair. She began hitting Sirius with it whenever she could get a clear shot without hitting her pwecious Wipper. Although Remus knew he ought to feel angry at this abuse of his friend, he had to admit that he was enjoying it immensely.  
  
At least, he was until the dogs took the fight into the living room, where there were entirely too many breakable objects for Remus's comfort. The scuffle took on immense and terrifying proportions as a small vase whizzed past his ear and smashed against the wall behind him. Mrs. Dursley screamed, "Don't worry, Duddykins honey, I'll protect you!" She tried to put herself between him and the flying knickknacks, but it didn't work too well since he was about three times as wide as she was. It was lucky that Dudley had so much padding, as it seemed to insulate him from much of the shock of being hit with small breakable objects. In fact, Remus got the distinct impression that he was actually having fun watching Harry dodging Mrs. Dursley's glass animal collection. He was just contemplating sneaking up from behind and giving Dudley a good whack upside the head when something very odd happened. The fight stopped completely.  
  
Actually, it had probably been slowing down for some time, but Remus had been too busy dodging family photos and watching Dudley to notice. Some sort of consensus now seemed to have been reached, as Sirius and Ripper were now circling each other, acting more curious than hostile. Remus felt this was a good thing until, as if by agreement, they both headed for the front door. The prospect of Sirius unleashed on the unsuspecting neighborhood didn't bear thinking about, but since it was happening Remus didn't have much choice in the matter. He once more racked his brain for some way of stopping Sirius. Finding no better plan than trying to stop him physically, which he already knew wouldn't work, he settled for following him to try to keep him out of trouble. The Dursleys and Harry apparently had the same idea and were all right behind him as he scrambled down the front steps after Sirius.  
  
At first it looked as if the dogs weren't sure where they were going, but after ten minutes of following them around the neighborhood Remus was certain of it. "How long are we going to be doing this?" Harry whispered to him. He shrugged and shook his head helplessly.  
  
A few minutes later, he wished the dogs would just keep wandering aimlessly for a few more hours, but it was too late. As they rounded a street corner, a pair of green eyes glowed at them from a hedge, reflected by the streetlight. "No!" Harry gasped. "It can't be! It *is!* It's...Mrs. Figg's house!" He collapsed on the sidewalk in despair.  
  
Remus was somewhat confused. "What?" he asked, wondering what could possibly be so terrible about Mrs. Figg. Meanwhile, he watched Sirius inching closer to the hedge out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Cats," Harry moaned weakly, raising his head for a moment before letting it drop hopelessly. "Oh, we are in deep trouble now."  
  
And so they were. Half a dozen cats stared at them from various spots around Mrs. Figg's yard in varying states of nervousness and contempt. Of course, Sirius and Ripper went absolutely nuts, tearing around the yard in a frenzy of canine excitement that would have cowed a mountain lion. Remus yelled at them for a minute before deciding that was just as useless as yelling at Sirius any other time and ended up just standing there on the sidewalk feeling idiotic. Suddenly, a thought struck him. [Cats...Figg...no, it couldn't be...Arabella?!]  
  
The thought of having someone he actually knew around to help was comforting-or as comforting as anything could be in this situation. The comfort, however, lasted only until he could no longer ignore the anguished noises from the yard. Wearily, he peered into the darkness to see what the heck was happening to those poor cats.  
  
All the cats were now clustered in two spindly ornamental pear trees, which were bending and creaking ominously under their weight. No, wait...Remus suddenly realized what the main source of the dogs' agitation was. There was one cat left on the ground, clawing and spitting for all it was worth. Even Sirius seemed to have enough sense-the word "brains" really wasn't applicable-to keep a safe distance from it.  
  
Remus squinted harder to get a better look at it. In the faint light from the streetlamp behind him, he could make out a large tabby cat with very distinctive markings. In fact, it looked almost as if the cat were wearing large, square spectacles...Somehow that rang several bells, which all clanged around together in his head making his ears ring and giving him a headache.  
  
He stared at the cat, knowing he should recognize it, but he couldn't think why. Suddenly an image came unbidden to his mind of a tall, severe black- haired woman with square spectacles exactly like the cat. Remus sucked his breath in sharply. [McGonagall!] Followed closely by, [Oh, no...I can't bear to watch.]  
  
Remus turned away, but he couldn't block out the sounds of dogs whining and yelping in pain. Although he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Sirius, Remus was heartily enjoying the thought of what Ripper would look like the next morning.  
  
"OUT, YOU MANGY DOGS!" screeched a familiar voice. Arabella Figg stood framed by her front door, wielding a fearsome broomstick with a grip that proved beyond a doubt she was at one time the star Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "I'll call the dog catchers!" she threatened fiercely, shaking the broom. Then she caught sight of the small group huddled on the sidewalk. "Your dogs, are they?" she snapped. "Well, if they're not out of my yard in ten seconds flat, you can count on your precious pooches being carted off to the pound!"  
  
"Arabe-" Remus began weakly, but she didn't even notice him.  
  
"In fact, I believe if I call now, they should be here in about..." She checked her watch. "Seven minutes." Arabella favored both dogs with the angriest look Remus had ever seen, even counting the time Sirius had dyed Lily Potter's hair purple in third year. Then she marched inside, slamming the door after her.  
  
There were a few seconds of stunned silence. Then Marge took action. "Wipper!" she called sweetly. "Settwe down, now. Weave dose nasty owd cats awone befowe you get in twoubwe." Poow wittle Wipper seemed only too happy to oblige, considering the beating McGonagall had just given him. He flung himself yelping into Marge's arms.  
  
"Come on, Marge. We're not going to stay here one second longer," Mr. Dursley barked, practically spitting the words into Remus's face. She hesitated, glancing at Remus.  
  
"Go on, go on," he said brightly, hoping he didn't sound too eager to be rid of the lot of them. "Very pleased to meet you, a good evening to you all." [Now please just GO AWAY!] Harry didn't dare say anything under the baleful glare of his uncle, but he offered Remus a weak smile and a small wave as they left.  
  
[Oh, blessed freedom,] Remus thought blissfully. He had finally escaped the dinner that would not die. Now all he had to do was get Sirius safely away from McGonagall and then...thirteen kilometers back home. Oh well, he would worry about that later. For now, his main objective was to avoid having Sirius spend the night at the city pound.  
  
But Sirius apparently wasn't ready to give up yet. Weaving slightly, he bravely marched forth once more into battle. At this point, Remus knew he had to try once more to save Sirius from his fate before McGonagall traumatized him for life or the dog catchers came to pick him up. Hoping it wouldn't be the last thing he ever did, he timidly stepped across the lawn toward the antagonists.  
  
"McGonagall," he whispered urgently. She stopped hissing at Sirius for a second, eyes turning to fix disconcertingly on him. Remus swallowed. "Look, I really need to get him out of here," he muttered. "Please, I'll explain later. Just let him go, okay?"  
  
She gave him a rather disappointed look. He held his breath to see what would happen. Slowly, she disengaged her claws from Sirius's stomach and primly walked off, tail held high.  
  
Remus breathed a deep sigh of relief. He definitely had enough time to get Sirius out of there before the dog catchers showed up. "Come on, Sirius," he coaxed, holding out his hand. "Gooood rum-soaked doggie. Come on now." To his immense frustration, Sirius just sat there. For a moment, Remus was puzzled. Then he groaned in realization as he remembered something he had tried very hard to forget.  
  
The Sirius Black Ritual of Losership was something Sirius had adhered to without fail since their first school days together. It usually involved standing or sitting at the scene of his defeat, moping and sulking for about ten minutes before he would talk to anyone or go anywhere. Usually this was a minor annoyance-under normal circumstances. Under abnormal and insane circumstances like these, it was an extremely major problem.  
  
Looking around furtively and listening for cars, Remus knelt by Sirius. "Look, you idiot," he hissed. "We've got to get out of here pronto!" Sirius didn't seem to think so. He whined softly, but gave no other indication that he was aware of Remus's presence or the dire threat of dog catchers. "This is no time for a pity party, Sirius!" Remus howled furiously.  
  
But despite his admonishment, the party was really swinging now. Sirius was going into the Tantrum Phase of his ritual, never a pretty sight. When the tantrum-thrower was an enormous dog, it was decidedly scary. Remus tried to ignore the fact that his best friend, who he would like very much to kill at the moment, was rolling around in circles emitting pitiful whines and soft howls of humiliation. "Get up, you stupid dog," he grunted, trying to pick him up one last time.  
  
Sirius growled softly. Remus froze. He remembered all too well what had happened the one and only time he had ever successfully disrupted Sirius's ritual. Letting go of Sirius very slowly and carefully, Remus edged away.  
  
"Well," he said in a shaky, falsely cheerful voice, backing toward the tree. "This, uh, tree looks like a nice place to rest. I'll just-" He reached for a limb to pull himself up. "-stay-" He swung up into the branches. "-up here for a while, shall I?"  
  
Remus relaxed slightly as Sirius sat back down on the lawn. After a brief pause, he resumed his rolling, moaning, and general sackcloth-and-ashes routine to Remus's great relief. His temporary security lasted all of two seconds, at which time he was reminded of Arabella's threat by the sound of an automobile about a block away.  
  
A large truck swung around the corner, LITTLE WHINGING ANIMAL CONTROL emblazoned on its side. Remus groaned as it screeched to a halt directly in front of the house. Oblivious to the two burly men heading for him, Sirius continued to vocalize his shame and grief.  
  
"All right, come on, big boy," one of the men said, motioning to the other to help him get Sirius. Sirius, immersed in his ritual, actually seemed not to notice when they lifted him with an effort and lugged him over to the back of the truck. Remus could hear their voices, though he could no longer see them clearly.  
  
"Little old lady *puff* around here *gasp* said you were makin' some trouble. Blimey, you're heavy. *wheeze* Hmm. No collar, eh? Well then, 'fraid you're just gonna have to spend the night with us." The men closed the door, and Remus began to hear a faint scratching sound from inside.  
  
Getting back into the cab, the two men slammed the doors and the engine started with a roar. The truck turned around and zoomed back down the street. Remus sat in silence, listening to the ominous sound of the branch under him creaking. [You idiot! You let them get away! Oh my gosh, I've got to-]  
  
CRACK-FWWMP. The branch broke and down went Remus. He landed hard on the ground and sat dazed for a second. Then, with an effort, he gathered himself together and got up. Wondering why his life was so insane, he dashed up the street after the disappearing taillights of the Animal Control truck.  
  
A/N: Well, I thought it was going to be really hard to write this until I thought of Sirius and Ripper loose in the neighborhood. Then the first thing I thought was cats and from there it was only a small step to McGonagall. This chapter makes this story officially my longest with four chapters. Not a big deal, but kinda makes me feel good to know I've got something with four chapters. Hopefully five soon because Coming As Soon As I Can Get The Time To Write Something Even Slightly Intelligent: How Much is That Doggie in the Window? 


	5. Memories

Disclaimer: I own the dog pound.  J.K. Rowling owns the dog and his long-suffering, semi-psychotic friend.

A/N: Look, another chapter!  Sorry I lied about the title, but I truly had no idea that most of this chapter would even happen.  I must admit that this is going much better than I thought it would.  At the beginning I had no clue what I'd be doing in the second chapter, but now I've got ideas for a few chapters ahead.  If you still like this story, tell me and I'll try to update more frequently.  If you don't, tell me and I will update much more frequently.  Bwa ha ha...

Memories

After ten minutes, Remus could feel a good-sized stitch in his side.  He would rather be just about anywhere else he could think of at the moment.  But what could he do?  When a friend, even one you would like to kill slowly and painfully, has just been caught by the dog catchers, there's not much you can do other than try to get him back.

If he ever got back home alive, Remus vowed, he would indeed kill Sirius slowly and painfully, but for now he had to get him out of the clutches of the Little Whinging Animal Control people before he did something terminally stupid.  What bothered Remus about this scheme was that Sirius, by definition, would definitely do something terminally stupid before the night was out, which put a bit of a time constraint on his plans for rescue.  Also, his plan so far consisted of following the truck to the pound and then coming up with a way to get Sirius out.

Not exactly conducive to cheerfulness, especially when Remus remembered the events of the evening so far.  Something about the combined horrors of rum cake gone wrong, his broomstick turning to matchsticks, McGonagall taking on Sirius and winning by a landslide, and now following a truck containing his friend the drunken dog definitely brought out his pessimistic side.  It didn't help that Sirius was now starting to howl the same drinking song that Remus had already heard way too much of that night.

Panting, Remus realized he was almost out of sight of the truck.  If they didn't stop soon, he might lose them entirely, which would be disastrous.  Aside from the not entirely unpleasant thought that Sirius would then be up for adoption come morning, he might accidentally reveal his true identity in a fit of tipsy high spirits, a development that didn't bear thinking about.  

[Where's your motorcycle when I need it, Sirius?] Remus thought accusingly as he puffed down the road after the truck, whose driver apparently had about the skill of Ernie on the Knight Bus.  The main difference was that things didn't jump out of his way, meaning that after approximately twenty blocks he had amassed a sizable collection of spinning sunflowers, pink flamingos, and ornamental cabbage.  

[Little Whinging Mailbox Control,] thought Remus wryly as the truck narrowly missed a minivan backing out of a driveway.  The two enormous, greasy brats inside looked up from their enormous, greasy hamburgers long enough to gawp at him in amazed derision.  [Yeah, well, _you_ need the exercise more than I do,] he thought unkindly, trying to look like he went jogging after an Animal Control truck every night at ten o'clock.

Two minutes later, all Remus's prayers were answered when the truck stopped abruptly and began to pull into a parking lot.  That sound of squealing tires was the sweetest he had ever heard in his life.  However, Remus allowed himself only a moment for jubilation before he had to force himself to think quickly about his next move.  The men had already unloaded Sirius and were huffing and puffing their way up the sidewalk to the pound.

Hurrying up behind them, Remus smiled rather weakly at the nearest man, who was muttering soothing nonsense words, threats, and obscenities to Sirius.  "Um, excuse me?"  To his utter mortification, his words came out like a cross between the Singing Chipmunks and an amateur piccolo player.  Slowly, the enormous slab of beef turned around and fixed him with a pair of beady eyes.

"Whadda ya want, buster?" the giant demanded rather irritably.  Obviously, it was not a bright idea to bother him after a long day on the job.  But then, Remus had never been known for his bright ideas.  He managed to dredge up another so-sorry-to-bother-you smile from his repertoire and pasted it firmly on his face before attempting another conversational gambit.

"Well, you see, it happened like this.  A little while ago, me and my dog were—"

"SILENCE!" yelled the beefy guy, deafening Remus and nearly knocking him over.  "WE ARE _CLOSED _FOR THE NIGHT!  COME BACK TOMORROW!"  His initial impression had apparently been correct—this was not the person to talk to about getting Sirius back.  Silently grateful that he had retained his life and all his limbs, Remus backed away gingerly.

By this time, the strange group had reached the door of the building and it was opening to admit the two employees with their canine companion.  Remus knew he had to act quickly and deliberately, and so he did.  As the men dragged Sirius inside, Remus darted glances around him to make sure nobody was watching, then stealthily followed.

Apparently, not stealthily enough.  "And exactly what do you think _you're_ doing?" a voice demanded at his elbow.  Spinning around, Remus found himself confronted by a security guard, obviously some close relation to Mr. Beefy.  Wondering how long his collection of weak but amiable smiles was going to hold out, he tried to explain.

"Um, well, actually, I was just hoping to talk to someone about my dog.  See, he was accidentally..."  He trailed off under the formidable glare of Beefy II, who was already turning away and beginning to stride purposefully, dragging Remus along with him.  Helplessly watching Sirius being carted off in the opposite direction, he felt a terrible despair sweep over him.  His friend Sirius "Wacko" Black was drunk and in the pound.  Who knew what could happen?

His miserable musings were interrupted by their arrival at wherever they had been going to.  "Boss!" Beefy II bellowed, shaking Remus's arm until his fingers rattled.  "Found a trespasser!"

"Now wait a minute," Remus protested feebly.  "I was trying to—"  Then he caught sight of Boss and his indignant explanation died in his throat.

Boss was Cassandra Philips.

He and Sirius had met Cassandra at a Muggle party the summer they turned nineteen.  Cass and Sirius had hit it off right away—literally.  The party had featured an altercation between them culminating in a fistfight.  Later, as Sirius lay in his hospital bed, he had told Remus, "I just know she's the one.  Any woman who can beat me without trying is the ideal of feminine beauty."  Remus had snorted and said nothing.

After their small difference of opinion had been resolved, Sirius and Cass had dated for the rest of the summer and most of the fall.  It looked like they were meant for each other.  Then, seemingly out of the blue, Cass told Sirius in front of twenty-three witnesses, including Remus, to bug off and never come near her again.  Poor Sirius had never fully understood her reasons for this sudden reversal of feelings, but Remus thought he did—or at least the main one.

Him.

To say that Remus and Cassandra didn't get along was an understatement.  To say they were constantly at each other's throats was right on the money.  For Cass, any conversation with Remus was an argument waiting to happen.  If he so much as mentioned his mild liking for cats, Cass was suddenly an ardent ailurophobe.  When he suggested they all go somewhere Italian for dinner, she was furious that he had forgotten about her acute allergy to pasta.  To all appearances, she greatly enjoyed hating Remus with all her mind, heart, soul, and strength.

Until the day of the break-up.  Remus still bore the scars of that day, in more ways than one.  As he thought about it, his finger unconsciously traced the thin white line running from his left eyebrow to his ear.  Yes, that day had been one that would live in infamy in the annals of history...the fateful day that Sirius had actually dared to agree with Remus.  He still remembered it as if it had been yesterday.

They had been talking about interesting pets and owners they had known.  "You know," he had said casually as they were leaving the steakhouse, "I've thought a lot about it lately, and I don't think I'll ever get a pet."  Cassandra's flashing green eyes were instantly riveted on him.

"And why not?" she asked, voice deceptively soft.  Remus had learned to fear that voice, but he had also learned that if he didn't answer she would bother him about it all the way home.  The only thing for it was to make the best of a bad situation.

He hemmed and hawed a little before attempting a reply.  "Well, um, I think I'm actually more of a people person than an animal person, if you know what I mean."  At least as far as _regular_ animals were concerned—Animagi, of course, were a different story.

Cass no doubt knew exactly what he meant and would have gone on to tell him just what she thought of animal haters like him, but Sirius intervened first.  "Yeah, I know how you feel," he said seriously.  "I like to have someone I can actually talk with, you know?  And animals just aren't too good at conversations.  Great as they are," he added hastily to placate Cass.

Apparently, Cass didn't feel like being placated at the moment.  Swelling with anger, she advanced on the cowering Sirius and Remus.  At that moment, Remus beheld the scariest thing he had ever seen in his life—an angry female in full battle mode and ready to rumble.

Unfortunately, he was closest to her and thus received the brunt of her fury in the form of torture by fingernails, not a pleasant sensation at the best of times.  Cass, however, took the art form to a whole new level, creatively achieving a sort of connecting effect by clawing a long scratch from the outer edge of his eyebrow to the top of his ear as well as giving him various other small souvenirs of the occasion.  He tried to fight back, of course, but he was no match for an insane Muggle, especially when her natural insanity was heightened by the imagined slights to her beloved little furry animal friends.  In the immortal words of Rudyard Kipling, the female of the species was indeed more deadly than the male.

When it was all over and Remus lay prostrate on the sidewalk, groaning with unbearable pain and wondering if he would ever be able to move any muscles in his face again, Cass turned on Sirius, who would have made a run for it earlier if he had any sense.  Instead, he had stood rooted to the spot watching the unfolding violence with horrified fascination and here and there making a spasmodic movement in her direction as if to stop her somehow, if such a thing were possible.  Now he smiled weakly and began to back away, trying to find a clear escape route through the passersby that had stopped to gawk at the unusual scene.

Cass was having none of it.  "Sirius Cerberus Black!"  No vestiges of the cooing, flirtatious timbre her voice had had earlier that evening now remained; it had dropped to about the temperature of liquid nitrogen and, to all appearances, wasn't going to warm up anytime soon.  "Get over here.  _Now."_  Somehow, the cold anger was more frightening than the wild rage she had unleashed on Remus.

Sirius got over there.  Now.  It was, Remus thought, probably only the third time in his life he had seen Sirius truly scared, the other two times being the time he "accidentally" turned Professor McGonagall into a pumpkin in fifth year and the time last year when he crashed his motorcycle into the Minister of Magic's prized begonias.  Of course, neither of those could hold a candle to the terrifying enormity of this situation, a fact that poor Sirius was no doubt very much aware of.  After all, he had already suffered once from Cass's iron fist and had a pretty good idea of exactly how hard she could hit.

"Now, really, Cass," Sirius stammered, teetering on the brink of incoherence.  "See here, we didn't mean any harm by it, it was just casual conversation, you've got to learn not to take it seriously..."  Yup.  Sirius was officially petrified; he was talking without pausing for breath.  As Cass advanced on him menacingly, he took on the characteristics of someone breathing helium.  "No no, please, I've learned my lesson, I'll never say it again I promise, animals are really very nice, did I ever happen to mention that I have fourteen pets at home and I even remember all their names!   Fido, Rover, um, Spot, Sparky, er, Fluffy, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy, uh, Sporty, Scary, Baby, Posh, and Ginger."

Remus winced.  Before, Sirius might have had a chance to escape unscathed, but that last bit had done it.  Cass wasn't stupid and knowing her, this would be the last straw...

Alas, he knew her only too well.  "Sirius, dear heart, that's _fifteen,"_ she seethed furiously, one graceful, long-nailed hand reaching out to snag his collar and hoist him clear off the ground.  Sirius gaped at her in astonishment as he dangled helplessly a few inches off the sidewalk, but Cass was still far from done with him.  Besides her own anger, she couldn't bear to disappoint the assembled onlookers, who were probably enjoying the best show they'd seen in years.

"This," she hissed venomously up at him, "Has.  Gone.  Far.  Enough.  I've put up with that—that _friend_ of yours for a long time, and I'm not going to stand for this any longer!"

[Believe me, lady, the feeling is mutual,] Remus snarled silently from his position on the ground, not daring to utter a syllable aloud for fear of Cass's reprisal.  His good sense, such as he had, warned him that he'd better keep his head down, as the situation was way past turning ugly and well on its way to getting nasty.  And he had definitely already had more than his fair share of both ugly and nasty at the hands of his friend's psycho girlfriend.

Cass was really getting warmed up now, her natural instinct for melodrama getting the best of her.  "And if you think I'm going to just get over this like every other time, you've got another think coming!  The number of times I've been insulted..."  She was rapidly assuming the air of a long-suffering martyr finally, reluctantly speaking out against her treatment.  All she needed now was a soapbox and she'd be all set for about the next two weeks.

However, her preparations to launch into an injured speech on cruelty to animals and significant others was interrupted by other niggling considerations—such as the fact that Sirius's face was rapidly turning from red to purple.  In the face of the necessity of avoiding homicide charges, Cass was forced to abbreviate her remarks, which she did nicely, boiling them down into exactly ten words: "You jerk!  Don't you dare come near me ever again!"

Then, amid the shocked stares and scattered applause of the gathered crowd, she unceremoniously dropped Sirius on the concrete and stalked off, knocking over seven people on her way.  For a few seconds, everybody simply stood, sat, or lay there stunned, still absorbing the events of the last two minutes.  Eventually, slowly at first, the crowd dispersed, many casting concerned and frightened looks at Cass's two victims over their shoulders.  Finally they were alone.

Sirius was still rubbing his neck ruefully, Remus nursing the wounds he'd received in battle.  He groaned as he laboriously picked himself up and shuffled slowly over to his friend.  "Well," he commented grimly, ignoring the pain caused by moving his facial muscles.

Heaving a sigh, Sirius looked up at him, eyes slightly glazed.  "Remus, I have just been traumatized for life," he told him wearily, looking for all the world like pictures of haggard survivors of F-5 tornadoes Remus had seen once on the Muggle Discovery Channel.  Remus had to concur with this statement, although in his own case the effect was compounded by the additional horror of having had his face used as an abstract art medium.  

"Yeah," he agreed heavily, offering a hand to help Sirius up.  "I know exactly how you feel."  It was not every day, or even most, that one got to see one's friend literally dumped, Remus reflected as the two young men limped down the street toward home.

Remus abruptly realized he had fallen into a reverie, resurrecting memories he had tried very hard to obliterate entirely.  So Cass managed the city pound.  Not at all surprising, considering her marked affinity for animals, but very bad for him.  If she recognized him...

Such a fate would be terrible beyond comprehension.  Not only would he be prevented from reaching Sirius, he'd probably also acquire a new set of souvenirs.  He could see it now—Study in Fingernails and Flesh, Part Two, by Cassandra Philips.  Shuddering at the thought, Remus tried to reassure himself that she had forgotten all about him, and even if she hadn't, she would never be able to recognize him more than fifteen years later.  Unfortunately, he wasn't at all sure of this, knowing how long Cass could hold a grudge from painful experience.

Resolving to simply act as unRemus-like as he could and hope for the best, he tried to summon yet another polite smile.  "Oh, good evening, ma'am.  Perhaps you could help me.  I'm awfully sorry to intrude after closing time, but there's been some sort of mistake."  

[Yes, first I was enough of an idiot to make the mistake of letting my best friend your former boyfriend into my house, and then I made the mistake of letting the doofus escape with my only broomstick, which was then chewed into pieces by one of those precious canines you love so much, and _now_ I'm about to make a big mistake by trying to rescue the most ungrateful dog on the planet.  Other than that...]  Remus realized he was starting to wallow in self-pity and quickly turned his thoughts back to the problem at hand.

"You see, my dog was mistakenly picked up by your employees when—"  His plan was to go on spinning nonsense like this long enough to simply annoy her into giving him Sirius, but he broke off at the look on her face.  It looked almost as if she had just recognized someone she hadn't seen in years...someone she had hoped never to see again but would be perfectly happy to torment now that she had.

"Remus, shut up," she commanded abruptly.  Already fearing the worst possible outcome of this encounter, he shut up promptly and swallowed hard, wondering what would become of him.  After all, there could be no doubt now that she recognized him.

[An elephant never forgets,] he reflected wryly as he waited for his fate.  He should have known that a person like Cass was probably so sensitive that she kept meticulous records of everyone that had ever insulted her.  Meaning, of course, that Remus had a file cabinet all to himself.

His musings were abruptly interrupted by a shriek of indignation.  At first he couldn't figure out why, but an idea struck and he suddenly realized what was going on.  Alas and alack, Remus had unconsciously just reverted to one of his usual habits in time of danger—thinking aloud.  This had gotten him in plenty of trouble under other circumstances in the past, but he had a feeling that what was coming next would be the mother of all temper tantrums.

Regrettably, most of his gut feelings lately seemed to be right on track.  "REMUS LUPIN!" Cass shrieked in spluttering fury.  He was alarmed, but not really surprised, to see small flecks of foam at the corners of her mouth as her fists clenched and unclenched, revealing sporadic glimpses of The Gilded Spikes of Doom—those gold-painted fingernails that still gave him nightmares sometimes.  This, however, was worse than any nightmare he could have ever imagined...whatever happened, he was pretty sure he wouldn't wake up before he hit the ground.

"You haven't changed a bit!  You're still just as rude and inconsiderate as you ever were!  I...I simply _CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!_  I have never been so insulted in my life."  Remus blinked in astonishment, amazed at this reversal of the facts.  _He_ was rude and inconsiderate?  That was a new one.

"Oh, I'm soooo sorry," he drawled, unable to control himself despite the prospect of impending doom.  "I realize now how unjust and hasty I have been in the past and I shall certainly endeavor to be more understanding and friendly in the future."

Cass's eyebrows arched, her anger still mounting but dormant for the moment, rather like Mount Vesuvius in Pompeii's last minutes.  "Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice, Remus?" she inquired in a dangerously soft voice, eyes boring through him.

[Actually, this qualifies as a full-fledged symphony,] Remus corrected grimly, hoping that choice comment wouldn't also force its way out through his traitorous lips and doom him to a fate worse than death.  Though, at the moment, he really couldn't imagine what could be worse than Death By Cass.

Apparently, Cass didn't need any more sarcasm from him to push her over the edge—she seemed to be doing quite a good job of that by herself.  "GUARDS!" she shrieked, pointing a frighteningly well-manicured finger at Remus.  "SEIZE HIM!"  

Unfortunately, the security guards were only too happy to obey her every whim, and Remus found himself hoisted by the armpits and carried down the hallway much more quickly than he had been dragged up it.  He hardly noticed, though, being much too busy sinking into the bottomless pit of despair.  With Cass the She-Demon running the place, how could he possibly break in and spring Sirius without getting killed?

His morose reflections were cut short as they reached the exit.  Unceremoniously, the guards dumped him on the sidewalk outside the Little Whinging pound.  Remus winced as he hit the concrete hard.  

As the door slammed firmly behind him, he ruefully observed to himself that his posterior muscles sure were getting a workout today.  Then, with an effort, he dragged himself to his feet and retreated a safe distance from the building to fall back and regroup.

A/N: Definitely the longest chapter so far in the story.  Pretty good, considering I didn't see it coming.  But something possessed my fingers to type the fateful sentence "Boss was Cassandra Philips", and from there everything just kind of flowed.  Sorry I lied about the chapter name, but I couldn't give up this idea.  *AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION NEEDED*  I'm doing a Scout project that involves compiling a small dictionary of terms and abbreviations used on fanfiction.net that new users might not know or might be too lazy to figure out on their own.  So review *cough cough* and include a couple!  Coming Soon: Chapter Six (hopefully How Much is That Doggie in the Window? for real this time).


	6. Dog Days

Disclaimer: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin both belong to J.K. Rowling...

*Cass bursts into the room foaming at the mouth*

Cass: Nooo, they's MINE, preciousssss!  I wants to torture them!  I wants to break their scrawny little neckses—

*miscellaneous wizards and officers of the law hurry her away to a nice rubber room*

Anyway.  As I was saying before I was so RUDELY INTERRUPTED...they and all trouble pertaining thereto are the property of J.K. Rowling.  Now on to the story...

A/N: Presenting another chapter of "Sirius on the Rum"!  Actually, at the moment this is probably the story I'm having the hardest time on, so updates may be even slower than they have been of late.  I thought parts of the last chapter were a little longwinded, but I fervently hope the story will get better (and funnier), so just bear with me and continue with the encouraging reviews!  Sorry I lied about the chapter title again, but little things keep happening in the plot that force me to write whole chapters about them.  I can, however, promise you beyond a doubt that the next chapter _will _be titled "How Much is That Doggie in the Window?"

Dog Days

From a safe distance, Remus Lupin gazed grimly at the Little Whinging pound and pondered his next move.  This meant war, of course...if he could work up the courage to somehow storm the place and rescue Sirius before he got himself into trouble—or worse, adopted.  The problem at hand was exactly how to get back in with every person in the place watching diligently for any sign of him.  Remus decided he should probably go for the most obvious solution first.  After all, who would ever expect something so patently idiotic?

He steeled himself for the horror that was to come and marched resolutely up to the building.  In the shadows by the door lurked a stereotypical thug, no doubt all too happy to rip him limb from limb if he showed any sign of trespassing.  Remus swallowed and forced a rather unconvincing smile as he drew nearer and noted the man's slightly pointed teeth.  [What is this, Night of the Living Security Guards?]

Apparently.  "Halt!  Who goes there?" the guard demanded stoutly.  Remus tried his best to stifle a snort at this rather medieval greeting and forced a look of suitable respect and meekness.  Actually, it wasn't all that hard, the man probably being a first cousin to King Kong and Godzilla.  

"Um, excuse me," Remus piped up, shuffling his feet a little to complete the resemblance to a nervous teenager.  He knew his tenor voice worked wonders for him in situations like this, especially when it soared into the upper register.  Somehow it always made 450-pound hulks like this guy feel superior, usually putting them off their guard and allowing him to get his way.

The guard looked suspiciously down, emphasizing the 2-foot difference in height.  Remus winced slightly.  He was very much aware that he'd better make this good if he didn't want a trip to St. Mungo's.  "Well, you see, there seems to be some problem.  I've come to pick up my pet and for some reason the other guard wouldn't let me in."  Twisting his face into an approximation of a smile, Remus "laughed" heartily.  "Isn't that wild?"

The Incredible Bulk, as Remus had privately named him, scratched his close-shaven head.  Remus held his breath.  Now his plan hinged on Cass' employees all having IQs of 25 or thereabouts.  Was it too much to hope for?

"Well, uh, duh," the guard mused slowly.  "Hmmmm..."

[Spit it out, you idiot!] Remus raged.

The guard came to a decision.  "I guess you can come on in," he said, fixing Remus with a wary eye as he held the door open for him.  Taking a deep breath and trying his best to feel very brave, he entered The Pound of Doom.  The words "if it's the last thing I do" suddenly held new and terrifying meaning.

Once inside, Remus found himself oddly calm.  The Rubicon had been crossed and he was sworn to do his duty, come what may.  Not to say that the thought of Cass' terrible revenge didn't turn his knees to jelly, but he couldn't turn back now and leave Sirius in the hands of this madwoman!  After all, friends were friends, no matter how much one might want to kill them.

As he followed his guide down a hallway he hadn't seen on his previous visit, Remus began to realize just how big the place really was.  For the first time, he wondered just how long it would take him to find Sirius, let alone rescue him and get him home in one piece.  This undertaking was obviously more serious than he had counted on.  Feeling his optimism disappear in a puff of smoke, Remus hunched his shoulders to avoid notice and kept a sharp lookout for any sign of Cass.

They had now reached an enormous corridor lined with cages.  Remus took one look at the size of the hallway and gulped, not knowing where to start.  Why, Sirius could be in any one of these...it was impossible!

[Now wait just a minute,] Remus chided himself.  [What are you saying?  You're a Marauder...impossible is your middle name!]  The thought of his noble history as a Marauder quickened his step and brought a swashbuckling gleam to his eye.  If anyone could break a tipsy bear-sized dog out of his former girlfriend's lair, it was definitely Mr. Moony.  What would Mr. Moony do to make the best of a situation like this?

Aha!  The first step: actually finding Sirius.  [Easier said than done,] Remus thought grimly, intimidated by the endless rows of animals.  But then, how hard could it be to find a somewhat drunk canine, especially one as...unusual...as Sirius?  Feeling a little silly, he began walking down the nearest row of cages, calling his friend's name and hoping he would be sober enough to respond.

"Sirius?  Sirius!  Come on, you idiot, I know you're here!"  No response.  "PADFOOT!" he bellowed in desperation, rattling the bars of the nearest cage and scaring the wits into several nearby Pekinese, who began running in circles yapping their little heads off.  Shaking the bars harder, Remus gritted his teeth in frustration and—

—Unexpectedly, the door burst open.  As luck would have it, the Pekinese quartet were the dogs nearest the door and thus the first ones out.  Before Remus could so much as scream for help, they were on him, their sharp little toenails buffeting him even more mercilessly than their high-pitched squeals, yips, and barks.  He went down under their combined 10-pound weight, yelping in surprise as he hit the floor.

The lap dogs were ecstatic; they probably hadn't had this much fun since the garden party they'd attended last year.  Unfortunately, the same could not be said for poor Remus, who was accumulating scratches at an alarming rate and in danger of going deaf to boot.  He raised his eyes beseechingly to the security guard, only to find the man staring at him with narrowed eyes.  Creakily but surely, the wheels in his head were beginning to turn and Remus didn't think he liked the direction they were going in.

"Hey!" the man said sharply, looking like one on whom the light of truth has just dawned.  "Boss warned us about you!"  Remus gasped, partly from fear that the jig was up and partly because of the set of nails that had just made their mark on his left cheek, joining the war wound he'd received from Cass fifteen years earlier.  The Pekinese were still having the time of their lives attacking him; moreover, one had made its way up to his face and apparently enjoyed tap dancing greatly.  Groaning, Remus made a weak attempt to brush the dogs off.

At this point, he realized something that dampened his already drenched spirits.  The realization was simply that the Pekinese weren't the only animals that had seen fit to make a bid for freedom.  In fact, about twenty assorted mammals were now wandering aimlessly around the corridor and generally making things very uncomfortable for any unlucky person who happened to be pinned to the floor by lap dogs.  Groaning inwardly, Remus thought, [I'll never find him now...]  Then something happened that temporarily drove all thoughts of finding Sirius from his mind.

The dog that had been executing dance steps on his face had extraordinarily long, perfectly groomed hair, which had been tickling Remus' nose for the last ten seconds.  At last, he could stand it no longer.  He simply had to sneeze...

Unfortunately, animals in packs tend to be totally devoid of sense or reason.  Because of this, any unusual noise in the vicinity—for instance, say, a person sneezing—tends to cause mass pandemonium, riots, stampedes, etc.  More unfortunately, this is precisely the reaction that Remus' outburst engendered.  Most unfortunately, lack of sense often results in nonsensical behavior such as running toward a strange noise rather than away from it.

Remus didn't have time to get out of the way.  The Vicious Lap Dogs of Doom were still attacking him with gusto, making it almost impossible for him to notice anything else, much less move.  Hearing a strange rushing sort of sound, he looked up in sudden horror and beheld the onslaught of domestic animals bearing down on him.  It was, naturally, too late to escape.

Well, he thought, Cass was finally getting her revenge for that last argument.  He was about to be overrun with animals...

—And then they hit him.  Approximately two hundred and fifty pounds of assorted critters thundered overhead in a rush of barks, mews, whines, yelps, and something that he could have sworn was maniacal laughter.  Just his luck—not one of the little beasts was declawed.  Remus was sure he would have all sorts of interesting scars to commemorate this night, assuming he lived through it.  Of course, that seemed extremely unlikely at the moment, but hope springs eternal.

Amid the bedlam that surrounded him, Remus could dimly hear the security guard running off, no doubt to inform Cass of this latest development.  He realized this should probably bother him, but it was hard to think of anything worse than being trampled by escaped animals directly after being attacked by small balls of fluff.  As best he could, he curled up into a ball and played dead, trying to ignore his stinging cuts, bruises, scrapes, and other assorted lacerations.

It was over.  The flood of fur and claws had swept down the hallway, leaving devastation in its wake, and was now heading for the exit.  Weakly, Remus propped himself up on one elbow and thanked his lucky heavenly bodies that he had survived this...unique...experience.  Mercifully, even those demonic dogs had been swept away in the crowd and were now out of his hair—literally.

At this point, Remus realized that he would probably be in considerable trouble if he was caught here.  In fact, the phrase "a fate worse than death" sprang to mind as singularly appropriate.  Slowly and painfully, he got to his feet and began brushing a thick layer of fur off his poor mistreated sweater, which would probably never recover from this trauma.  Remus wondered whether he would ever either, for that matter.  This surely counted as a traumatic experience...

[Wait a minute.  Just one cotton-pickin' minute!]  To his great chagrin, Remus suddenly noticed that he hadn't been able to get a good enough look at the stampede to verify that Sirius hadn't been part of it.  For all he knew, his friend could now be roaming loose around the pound or the immediate vicinity, meaning that Remus would probably never find him without some sort of finding spell, for which he would need his wand.  And, he remembered with even greater chagrin, his wand was currently sitting innocently on the kitchen table at his house, blissfully unaware that it was needed.  Why did everything always have to happen to him?

Remus sighed softly, indulging in one of the rare moments of self-pity that had become more and more frequent in the last two hours.  Of all the things that could have happened, why did the evening's events have to involve tracking down someone who had been enough of an idiot to get himself drunk while cooking (cooking, for Pete's sake!), having his broomstick of twenty-four years torn to bits by a murderous canine, and running into Cassandra Philips?  Surely nobody deserved such a disastrous concatenation of events in such a short time!

Now, where could he hide?  He cast about frantically for a safe hiding place, hearing faint footsteps approaching.  Perhaps behind those cages?  No, too obvious; that would be the first place they would look for him.  Which left exactly one spot—the tiny space right behind the door at the far end of the corridor.  Could he get there in time?  It would be a calculated gamble...

Taking a deep breath, Remus scrambled to his feet, pelted down the hallway, and dived for the shadows behind the large door just as it slammed open.  Cass entered in all her terrible glory, trailed by a few understandably nervous employees who cowered and generally tried to avoid notice.  Remus could sympathize, knowing he would do the same under the circumstances.  He crouched behind the door, panting from his narrow escape and gasping silently from the abrupt pain of the door crashing into his shoulder.

"And just _what_ exactly happened here?" Cass demanded imperiously, striding down the corridor.  Wincing at the click of her impossibly high-heeled shoes, Remus tried to make himself smaller and more like a section of wall, still rubbing his shoulder and grimacing.  The employees gibbered in pure terror and tried to blame each other for the mishap.

"Well, see, it was all Jones here's fault, ma'am, he was the one that done unlocked them there cages—"  "Don't you listen to that lying snake-in-the-grass Smith, he's the one what's responsible for this—"

"ENOUGH!" Cass bellowed, making them all shrink back in fear.  "What matters is that approximately two dozen of the animals it is _your_ job to take care of have somehow escaped.  I assure you that the responsible party—or parties," her icy gaze swept the ranks— "will pay dearly for this...this...fiasco.  However, you do still have a chance to redeem yourselves.  Those beasts can't have gone far.  AFTER THEM!"  The roar shocked her employees into action, and the room was vacated in a matter of seconds, Cass shouting commands at their retreating backs.  She surveyed the room and the remaining animals with contempt, turned on her heel, and marched out.  Remus breathed again.

Creeping through the maze of hallways, he felt great relief at having survived the latest development in what was shaping up to be the most dangerous experience of his life.  Yes, he was retreating once more, but not without hope.  For as he scuttled out of the corridor with the cages, he had seen something that made his hopes rise higher than they had since this wretched evening had begun—an enormous mass of black fur looking soulfully at him.

Sirius was safe—for now.

A/N: Cheerful, wasn't it?  I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, but I've recently started work on approximately ten other stories that I will hopefully post sometime this summer.  This includes updates to "The Marauders' Legacy", which looks really stupid right now with the one chapter it's had since December.  About six of those ten stories will be Lord of the Rings, which I'm really looking forward to because it's a whole lot easier to come up with an original plot in that section than in this one.  I'm also working on stories for several backwater sections like Foundation and Amber (which are both great series and need all the readers they can get HINT HINT) and some not-so-backwater ones like Series of Unfortunate Events and The Dark is Rising.  Guess what?  I _still_ need abbreviations and terms!  If anyone can give me the definitions for YAOI, C/C, and MST (which I knew once but have sadly forgotten), I would be eternally grateful.  Of course, other stuff is welcome too.  Just to verify: MPREG means male pregnancy, right?  Folks, please forgive me.  You may have noticed by now that I don't go for a lot of review feedback at the best of times, and at the moment I want to get this thing posted and since my parents aren't on the Internet I can't access my reviews.  I'll give you the sad story on that in the next chapter, which is...*ahem*...Coming Soon: Chapter Seven: How Much is That Doggie in the Window? (for real this time)

P.S. No offense to Pekinese.


	7. How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

Disclaimer: I don't own these poor people, I just torment them.

A/N: Yes, it's finally time for the chapter I promised you two chapters ago!  I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't leave out my ideas, and I certainly didn't want to end up writing a 6,000-word chapter.  But here it is at last!  Beware...this chapter involves...*dun dun dun*...MORE attempts by Remus to rescue Sirius!  Surprised?  Thought so.  Yeah, the whole pound thing is getting kind of worn out, but this is the last chapter involving it, I'll tell you that much.  Also that the end of the story may be near at hand.  Actually, I already know what the ending is going to be, but I don't want to end it for a few more chapters.  If you've read OotP, _please_ don't give away anything in your reviews.  Some people haven't.  It's kind of a pity that this is more or less AU now, but at least I'm not alone.  Most HP stories are AU now.

How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

At least Sirius was there.  That much he knew.  However, as far as escape plans went...

Remus sighed and stifled a strong urge to bang his already sore head on the nearest tree trunk.  It might attract unwelcome attention from inside the building, and besides, he didn't want sleep quite _that_ badly.  He was a man on a mission, such as it was, and he knew that if he messed up it would probably haunt him in dreams for the rest of his life, however long that might be.

[NO!  NO!  NO!  Ooookay...positive thoughts, Remus, positive thoughts.  Just remember...whatever doesn't kill you gets you off work for a few weeks.]  Somehow, the power of positive thinking had no effect on him at the moment, so he determinedly moved on to planning his next move.  Sneaking in and playing innocent were out, so what were his remaining options?  This could take a while.

{Bribery,} a small, still voice in Remus' head whispered.  

His head almost hit a low-hanging tree branch in his surprise.  [_What?_]  Where had _that,_ of all ideas, come from?  Ordinary, law-abiding wizards like him didn't go in for corruption!  Why, he wouldn't even know how to go about it.  It was, he decided, quite obviously out of the question.

The voice in his head didn't think so.  {Look, it's simple.  You just walk up to the guy, make sure nobody's looking, and slip him a few Galleons.  Easy, huh?}  Remus refused to be so easily won over to the dark side—after all, he had standards!  He couldn't just nonchalantly subvert a security guard and go on his merry way.  His mother had drummed into him soundly the belief that things like that would come back to torment him on dark, stormy nights when he was old and gray and the nightlight had burnt out, and he was terrified at the very thought of risking such a thing.

[Besides,] Remus realized with chagrin, [I don't _have_ any Galleons on me!]  He searched his pockets frantically and came up with half of a dust-covered Sugar Quill, a fragment of that abominable rum cake recipe—how in the name of Nimue had that gotten there?—and three forlorn Knuts, which clinked softly against each other.  Would this be nearly enough to bribe anyone, especially a Muggle?  Not that he would ever do such a thing, oh no!  It was purely a theoretical matter...

His thoughts turned to what Sirius would say if he knew his friend had condemned him to imprisonment and possible adoption because of a few puny scruples.  Sirius had never held much with scruples and morals and such in the first place, maintaining that their main purpose was to keep people from having fun.  And he was right, of course, if one's definition of "fun" involved lying shamelessly to authority figures and pulling pranks right and left.  As Sirius always said proudly, he never broke rules—he ground them into fine powder.

No, Sirius would definitely not forgive and forget if he gave up now while he still had a chance to rescue him.  Knowing his friend, Remus shuddered to think of the revenge he would take if he ever caught up with him.  He had seen Sirius pull pranks that would freeze the blood in one's veins, as well as turning one's hair a charming shade of pale pink for the next two months.

Well.  That certainly ruled out going home and living happily ever after, ignoring all dogs of any shape and size and never eating cake again, which was his first instinct.  Still, Remus did have his standards, and this bribery notion most definitely went against the grain.

He had to make one last token effort to resist temptation, so he argued, [Muggles don't use wizard money!  What will it matter to him?]  The voice didn't deign to answer this, and for good reason—Remus knew perfectly well how gullible this bunch of idiots was.  Actually, he could probably just give the guard the Sugar Quill, for all the difference it would make.  

{Come on, it won't be so bad.  And just remember, it could always be much, much worse.}

[I find that hard to imagine,] Remus thought bitterly, wondering what the fact that he was having a heated argument with himself said about his mental state.  Any good psychiatrist would probably come to the conclusion that he was about on the level of those loonies who went around in capes pretending they were wizards…

{You could be in the process of being drawn and quartered by Cass.  With a rusty scalpel,} the voice suggested cheerfully.  Wincing at the all-too-believable thought, Remus sighed, looked down at the Knuts, and gave up the battle.

Two minutes later, he had repeated as much of the mantra on page four of _Self-Confidence with Spooks_ by Gilderoy Lockhart as he could remember and was breathing deeply and methodically as he worked his way across the lawn toward the dreaded door.

[I believe in myself.  I can handle anything the known universe can throw at me.  I am strong, self-confident, and independent.  I will always and forever purchase any new Gilderoy Lockhart books I see, regardless of whether or not the subject interests me or I can spare the money.  I will faithfully renew my yearly 50-Galleon subscription to _Gorgeous, Glorious Gilderoy_, the best magazine in existence, and read every issue religiously until half the pages have fallen out and I am forced to order back issues for the low price of 20 Galleons apiece plus 5 Galleons shipping and taloning.  I will only use hair-care potions with a picture of the great Gilderoy Lockhart on the label…]

Remus reached the door and the guard, who was squinting out into the night, obviously reacting to the sounds he had made in the harrowing process of crossing the grass, such as stepping on twigs, stepping on squirrels, and swearing when a branch poked him in the eye.  Now was his greatest moment…Remembering the words of the mantra, he bravely stepped forward to experience firsthand the pleasures and dangers of bribery.

"Well, hi there," he said smoothly, noting with vast relief that it was not the guard he had so recently dealt with—that could potentially have ruined the whole thing.  "Are you tired of a job that doesn't use your talents?"  From his careful study of Muggle culture, he had learned that this method of presentation, despite its clichéd use in thousands of commercials, was by far the most effective way of tricking somebody into doing something they would doubtless regret later.  If he had known about this earlier, he would have brought black-and-white pictures of dissatisfied-looking security guards shaking their heads in sorrow, but as it was he would just have to make do without.

Even without the visual aid, the man's shaggy brows were lowered in sudden animal anger at the repressive system that kept him from utilizing his true gifts and interests to create a new life for himself.  It was working!  Now all Remus had to do was offer a more satisfying alternative and he was practically home free—assuming nothing happened to mess it up this time.

"Now you too can lead a happy, stress-free life thanks to this simple system!" he chirped, looking outrageously excited at the thought.  "Two easy steps: simply take this money, absolutely free of charge—"  Use of the word "free" was very important in situations like this.  "—And just stand there, look the other way, and keep your mouth shut!  Don't pass up this great opportunity to make money fast!"  This was undoubtedly the stupidest thing Remus had ever done, but he noted to his surprise and disgust that the guard was apparently falling for it.

"Here," he said cheerfully, stuffing the handful of Knuts into the other man's enormous hand.  "Take a free sample."  The security guard stared blankly down at the tiny coins, the wheels in his head grinding and creaking in protest at the unaccustomed use.  Then he looked back up at Remus, but it was too late—he had slipped through the door and locked it behind him.

Remus leaned against the door in relief, still somewhat in shock at the success of his criminal activities.  Now all he had to do was find Sirius and get him the heck out of this place...Let's see, he could probably set up something that would distract Cass and her cronies long enough for him to slip in and unlock the cage.  Right.  Which meant he had to get the key first.  At this point, he decided, some serious planning was definitely in order.

His so-called planning was interrupted by a sudden noise from further down the hallway.  Looking up in shock, Remus heard a sound like that of a door slamming.  In fact, it sounded as if someone had just come in through the main entrance to the building.  Other than he himself, who in their right mind would visit the pound at—he checked his watch for the first time in what felt like hours—nine-thirty in the evening?

He quickly ducked underneath a small table as faint voices reached his ears.  Making himself as small and table-like as humanly possible, he caught a glimpse of three people at the far end of the corridor.  They began moving in his direction, talking animatedly.

"But _Daaaaaaadddy!"_ whined a shrill voice.  As the group drew closer, Remus could see that the voice belonged to a little girl, perhaps seven years old, who was wearing a fluffy pink nightgown and slippers to match.  She was dragging a stout, middle-aged man in a faded blue bathrobe and complaining at the top of her voice while Cass scuttled along behind the two, wearing an obsequious smile that turned Remus' stomach.  "I just have to, you _know_ the dog show's tomorrow and every single other kid in town besides me has a dog and I just can't stand it, you never give me anything—"

"Now Murgatroyd, honey, calm down, you know that's not true," her unfortunate father interrupted nervously.  He seemed to be having difficulty catching his breath, but his daughter relentlessly tugged at his hand.  Cass continued to smile sickeningly, not wanting to let this potential customer get away.  In his hiding place under the table, Remus shuddered and wondered whether Murgatroyd and her father were related to the Dursleys.  It certainly seemed possible...

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" howled Murgatroyd, stepping up her frenetic pace down the hallway and ignoring her father's wheezes of protest.  "I've always, absolutely always wanted a dog and you and Mommy said no!  You're so mean to me I can hardly stand it!  I hate you!"

Murgatroyd's father, for whom Remus was now feeling definite sympathy, opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off again.  "I want a doggie!  I want a big doggie to fetch the newspaper and carry my slippers and scare the neighbors!  I want the biggest doggie in the world and I want it NOW!"  Remus saw Cass' lips twitch slightly in something between amusement and horror.  Oh yes, a wonderful customer indeed!

"Well now, little girl," she gushed patronizingly, bending down to Murgatroyd's level, "I think we may have just the doggie you're looking for."  To her father she said in normal tones, "You know, having a dog is a very healthy and normal thing for children.  Many leading psychologists agree that owning a pet teaches responsibility and consideration.  I think a dog may be just what your daughter needs."  

Cass flashed him a dazzling smile for good measure and proceeded to ignore him, turning back to the girl.  "Come on, honey," she cooed, beginning to lead her toward the enormous hallway of cages.  "I know exactly what you need.  Right now we have a bee_ooo_tiful black dog who absolutely _loves_ children, especially nice little girls like you!"  Murgatroyd beamed up at her, displaying several gaps in her teeth.  The father groaned softly, but neither Cass nor Murgatroyd seemed to notice.  With another sugarcoated smile, Cass unlocked the door with a flourish and all three went in.

Remus remained under the table, frozen in horror.  How could this be happening?  This must be a bad dream, he decided firmly.  This was not happening.  Sirius was not about to be adopted by this...this...this spawn of Voldemort.  [I am strong, self-confident, and independent.  I am...I am...Oh, darn.]  He gave up his attempt at optimism and collapsed into self-pity and misery.

"Well, there you are," Cass proclaimed loudly, emerging from the room with Murgatroyd and slave in tow.  "Now you just take good care of him and feed and walk him every day and you two will be best friends in _no time at all!"_  Murgatroyd's father, who had gone rather pale, forked over a handful of Muggle money and Cass handed a leash to Murgatroyd, who smiled sweetly, said, "Thank you, Daddy," and bent to give Sirius a hug.  Remus couldn't bear any more and turned away, trying to restrain his urge to kill.

When he worked up the nerve to turn back around, Sirius' captors were disappearing down the hallway, Cass following and still talking a mile a minute, no doubt encouraging them to recommend her establishment to anyone they knew who was interested in getting a pet and wishing Murgatroyd good luck at the dog show.  Remus swallowed hard at the thought, horrible images coming unbidden to his mind.  He had a feeling that very soon he would get the answer to the question "How could things possibly get worse?"

Waiting until he was sure neither Cass nor her customers could see him, Remus slowly crawled out from underneath the table and stood up, doing his best to ignore the twinges of pain from fresh bruises.  This was no time for self-pity!  He had to rescue Sirius before he blew his cover—or worse, was actually forced to enter this dog show.  With this terrible prospect in mind, he very carefully crept down the hallway and out the door, looking around to make sure nobody had spotted him.

As he caught sight of a white stretch limo—presumably belonging to Murgatroyd's family—pulling out of the parking lot and began wearily to jog after it, Remus vowed silently, [Sirius, I'm gonna rescue you if it's the last thing I do.]  It sounded eerily prophetic.

A/N: I told you they'd get out of the pound!  Like I said, I know how it's going to end, but I'm not sure what's going to happen in between now and then.  I can promise you, though, that both of them will survive relatively unharmed.  Good news: I actually got some help on my quest for abbreviations and terms.  I should have known MST stands for Mystery Science Theater, I love that show!  I also know now that YAOI and YURI are basically the same thing as slash, but could someone give me what they actually stand for?  And I need someone to verify that MPREG stands for male pregnancy.  But enough of that.  Rules for reviewing: Please, please, please do not mention anything important from OotP!  If you want to talk about it that badly, e-mail me or something.  I know how it feels to get a Harry Potter book a month later than everyone else, so please be considerate!  Coming Soon: Chapter Eight: There's No Business Like Show Business.


	8. There's No Business Like Show Business

Disclaimer: The late Sirius Black belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Aaand it's another chapter!  As I said in the last one, only a few chapters left as far as I know.  But don't worry, once I'm done with this I still have plenty of ideas to work on.  I just hope you folks like Lord of the Rings, that's all...

Rowlingfan1: I'm sure Remus wishes very much he could have done what you suggested, but keep in mind that Cass would have most likely killed him on sight, customers or no customers.  Good idea, though!  In a perfect world...

Sigh.  I have noticed a marked decrease in the number of reviewers for the last two chapters.  Are you bored with the story?  Have you given up on pre-OotP stuff?  Are you now avoiding anything with "Sirius" in the title?  Please don't...it's almost depressing.  Several of my regular reviewers haven't shown up for a while.  Please, don't hesitate to review!

There's No Business Like Show Business

Inside the white stretch limo that her daddy had promised would be hers as soon as she could drive, Murgatroyd Finch looked adoringly at her new doggie.  The nice lady at the pound had been right—he was just what she wanted.  From his cute floppy ears to his long waggly tail, he was absolutely perfect.  And, Murgatroyd decided, he would have to have an absolutely perfect name.  Hmmm...

Fido?  No, too plain.  Rover?  Definitely not.  She wouldn't be caught dead with a dog named Rover!  Something like...like...Suddenly, Murgatroyd had it.  She would call her new doggie Prince Fluffers III!

Swiftly losing ground as the limo sped down the dark road, Remus knew nothing of this horrifying development.  All he knew at the moment was that his muscles ached and he had spent much too much time already chasing after cars.  Wasn't that supposed to be Sirius' job? 

They reached an intersection, but there was no rest for the weary—Remus had to use the few seconds afforded by the red light to catch up with his quarry.  Panting and puffing, he managed to narrow the distance to twenty feet by the time the light turned green.  

[It continues to amaze me,] Remus thought, [how I've been chasing after vehicles all evening and they never see me in the rearview mirror.]  

It was probably the only thing that had gone right so far, and he was grateful for it.  He didn't want to think about what Murgatroyd and her father would do if they saw a very disheveled man in a dust-covered sweater jogging along behind their car.  [Probably think I was a stalker or something,] he thought, surprised by how much pleasure the idea of sending Murgatroyd into screaming hysterics gave him.

Thankfully, the trip to the Finch family mansion was not nearly as long as Remus had feared—within ten minutes he caught his first glimpse of the monstrous place.  Heartened by being so close to his goal, he managed to put on an extra burst of speed and arrive at the house only five minutes after the limo had pulled into the six-car garage.  "Now," he said to himself, "we wait."  [Wait a minute...was I just talking to myself again?  Yup, you sure were, Remus.]

Opting to ignore the fact that he had just had another conversation with himself, Remus made sure nobody could see him from the house, then began looking around for a place where he could spend the night and keep an eye on the garage at the same time.  After several minutes, he had established that the only spot suitable for his purposes that was invisible from the street was behind a large clump of bushes at the side of the mansion.  Sighing softly and wishing he had never gotten into this, Remus found a reasonably soft patch of grass and curled up to get what sleep he could.

Nine hours later, he was woken by the muffled sound of a car starting.  Sitting up and blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Remus thought, [No.  Not morning already.  It can't be...]  But it was, and there was nothing to be done.  Judging from the fact that the sun was just rising, he guessed that Murgatroyd believed in getting an early start on an important day like this.  Groaning at the stiffness in his limbs, he pulled himself to a standing position with the aid of the nearest bush and stared hostilely at the white stretch limo making its way down the road.

Under normal circumstances, Remus would never have even considered running at full speed thirty seconds after waking up, but in this case such measures were clearly necessary.  Insulting Sirius, Murgatroyd, Cass, and anyone else he could think of under his breath, he broke into a sprint and tried vainly to make up some of the distance between him and the car.

To Remus' dismay, he soon discovered that the nearby park, the site of the pet show, was much farther away than the pound.  In fact, after twenty minutes he was still attempting to follow the limo and feeling as though he would split in two from the stitch in his side.  [How much longer will this torment go on?] he wondered wearily, slogging along in the car's wake.

As if in answer, the limo turned into a parking lot and considerately parked in all three handicapped parking spots.  Remus quickly dived behind a minivan to avoid notice, but it was unnecessary—none of the occupants of the limo would have seen him anyway.  The henpecked Mr. Finch was checking his pockets to make sure he had brought along at least five bottles of super-strength aspirin and wondering why in the world he had let himself be bullied into driving his daughter to the park at six in the morning when the pet show started at eight, Murgatroyd was busy admiring her dog and dreaming of the day to come, and a now-sober Prince Fluffers III was bemoaning the unlucky events that had led to the fluffy pink bow fixed around his neck.

After making sure they had their survival kit for the day, an enormous picnic lunch, the Finches locked the car and set off, Remus trailing cautiously behind and hoping fervently that they wouldn't spot him.  Just in case the worst happened, he began to work out an explanation for why he would be skulking around behind cars and trees.  After all, it wouldn't do to have them get suspicious!

He decided he was a reporter for a small newspaper—exactly which one he didn't know, but that could be taken care of if need be—who was covering the pet show and thought Murgatroyd would be the perfect subject for an interview.  The fact that he had no notebook, camera, or other journalistic paraphernalia could be explained away somehow, he was sure.  Muggles were ridiculously eager to believe that there was a normal explanation for everything in life and would probably be only too happy to accept him as some sort of crackpot journalist.

Murgatroyd and her little entourage continued on toward the walking trail, which had been marked off for the special occasion.  When other children began arriving in an hour or so, they would stake out a small spot at the side of the path and wait for the judges to come by.  Obviously, Murgatroyd planned to get the best seat in the park and would stop at nothing—even arriving two hours early.  Remus had to admire her determination, if nothing else.

"Oh, Pwince Fwuffers," Murgatroyd crooned, bending down to lovingly strangle her new pet.  "We'we going to have _such_ a good time!  And I can alweady tell you'we going to win, awen't you pwecious?"  Prince Fluffers' big adorable eyes seemed to widen a little, no doubt in sheer rapture at the prospect of entry in a neighborhood pet show.

[Prince Fluffers?!] Remus thought in horror.  [Prince..._Fluffers?]  He swallowed hard.  It was obviously not going to be the best of days for anyone involved, except possibly Murgatroyd, who was now dancing in circles around her helpless father, leash still firmly in hand.  She began singing at the top of her lungs to the great dismay of everyone present, especially Remus, who cowered behind a nearby bush and attempted to tune her out.  It didn't work._

"Now, Murgie," Mr. Finch said in what was probably meant to be a jovial voice, trying to make himself heard over the din, "let's not make noise.  You know it's not nice to make noise, Murgie..."  He trailed off as Murgatroyd's "singing" grew louder yet and it became painfully obvious that she was not going to stop until she was good and ready, which by the looks of things would be about when he was good and ready to commit second-degree murder.

Looking resigned to his fate, Mr. Finch collapsed onto a nearby bench and closed his eyes.  Remus distinctly heard him mutter under his breath, "Give me strength..." as his daughter bounded over with the unfortunate Sirius in tow.  The man kept his eyes tightly shut and pretended to be oblivious to everything around him, an extremely good idea under the circumstances and one that Remus would have been only too happy to adopt himself.

However, he reminded himself sternly, he had a mission—to rescue his friend from this torment or die in the attempt, whichever happened first.  True, he wasn't too optimistic about his chances at the moment, but sooner or later an opportunity would present itself and when that happened, he would snatch it before he could say "kibbles and bits".  After all, Murgatroyd the Evil couldn't keep Sirius within her sight all day long...could she?

"Now," Murgatroyd announced to nobody in particular, interrupting Remus' slightly depressing train of thought, "we're going to mark out our spot."  Mr. Finch groaned softly and slumped sideways.  Taking no notice of this, Murgatroyd half-skipped, half-ran over to the nearest tree, dragging Sirius along behind her.  She stood on her tiptoes and reached for the lowest branch, which was about six feet off the ground.  

After a few unsuccessful tries, Murgatroyd's chin began to wobble, but she suppressed the brewing tantrum for once and tried again.  At last she hit upon the idea of jumping as high as she could and managed to break off a few smaller branches.  With a satisfied smile, she returned to the bench where her unfortunate father was now going into mild hysterics.

Working quickly, Murgatroyd drove the sticks into the ground, forming a large rectangle that encompassed the bench and all territory for about two feet around it, and stood back to survey the result.  Then she reached into her little white plastic handbag, which she had insisted on bringing along despite her father's feeble protests, and pulled out a roll of something that looked like the yellow tape Muggle police used, with one difference—it was a lovely shade of pale...

[Pink,] Remus moaned silently, shuddering with revulsion.  He hadn't known one could get such a thing and suspected it was highly illegal—after all, who would be insane enough to actually sell the stuff?  His disgust only increased as Murgatroyd began to wind the tape around the stakes and he was able to read it for the first time.

This is the property of Murgatroyd Cecilia Lorelei Harriet Finch and anyone who touches it will be deeply sorry and beg for mercy on bended knee.  So there.  This is the property...

It went on and on, repeating the same sickening message over and over again in hot pink letters outlined in black.  At last Remus averted his face, unable to bear it any longer.  Trying to shut out Murgatroyd Cecilia Lorelei Harriet Finch and her horrible pinkness, he resigned himself to a long wait.

An hour and a half later, the other children began arriving with their pets.  Their whining and yelling, while not exactly music to Remus' ears, was a great relief—he had suffered through Murgatroyd's baby talk to her _"cute _wittle doggie" for the last half hour and could only imagine what it had done to Sirius.   Hopefully, matters would improve once the show got started; Murgatroyd would probably spend most of her time bragging to her friends.  [If she has any,] Remus thought uncharitably, but he didn't feel guilty in the least.  In his opinion, Murgatroyd quite deserved it for all she had put him through.

"ATTENTION!" bellowed a voice, making everyone jump.  Remus peered through the foliage and saw a young, cheerful-looking woman with a ponytail pulled up impossibly high on her head holding a large megaphone and standing in the middle of the walking trail.  "Welcome to the first Little Whinging Neighborhood Pet Show!" she chirped enthusiastically—Remus could hear the capital letters.  "I'm _so glad to see all your little faces out here so bright and early!  And I just _know_ we're all going to have a wonderful time today, aren't we!"_

The children replied with incoherent yells, seeming to express some sort of agreement with the sentiment.  A few even jumped up and down in excitement, obviously more than ready for the judging to begin.  "Now calm down everyone!  I just have a few words to say before we start the show!  Please keep your little animal friends under control today!  After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get _hurt, now would we!"_

This time the response was a little less enthusiastic, but the woman ignored it and kept going.  "And please keep the path clear!  Remember, the judges will be coming by and we want them to be able to get through, don't we!"  This was obviously another rhetorical question, as she turned, ponytail bouncing, and strode off in the direction of several harassed-looking people wearing official sticky name tags that said JUDGE in black marker.

After the woman had disappeared with the JUDGEs in tow, the noise broke out louder than ever.  _"Eleanor!"_ Murgatroyd shrieked, bouncing up and down on her toes.  A little girl about her age with two long braids and at least three teeth missing hopped across the path to join her, grinning maniacally.

[No,] Remus groaned silently, wishing he could escape from his hiding place without anyone seeing him—but it was too late for that now.  [Not two of them.  Please, not two of them...]

Mental begging has never been noted for its results.  Indeed, there apparently were two of them, and their main reason for being friends seemed to be in order to insult each other whenever possible.  "That's yer _dog?" Eleanor demanded scornfully, poking Sirius.  He whined a little.  "__My dog is bigger an' better than yers.  An' he can beat him up too," she informed Murgatroyd._

"Can not!" Murgatroyd retorted, starting to turn an alarming shade of pink.  Remus rolled his eyes a little.  If this went where he thought it was going...

"Can so," Eleanor said, smiling sweetly.  She picked up a twig and poked Sirius again, a little harder this time.

"You leave my dog alone.  And he can not either!"  Murgatroyd reached for the stick, but Eleanor jumped back, holding it out of her reach.  Sirius looked as disgusted as Remus felt, with a little fear on the side.  After all, twigs could be lethal weapons in the hands of little girls!

For the first time, Mr. Finch spoke up.  "Now girls," he said wearily, as if reciting a speech.  "You know that's not nice, settle down now."  He could have been talking to a nearby squirrel for all the girls cared—they ignored him utterly and went on with their dog-bashing.

"Can not!"

"Can so!"

"Can not!"

"Fine."

Murgatroyd stared.  "What?" she practically shrieked, obviously disappointed at the prospect of the fight ending.

"Fine.  Yew come over an' see Buster, an' _then yew tell me whether or not he can beat up yer dog, okay?" Eleanor said reasonably, showing the gaps in her teeth as she smiled._

Remus held his breath.  This could be the break he had been hoping for!  If only Murgatroyd could be distracted long enough for him to grab Sirius and run...But could it possibly be this easy?

Yep.  "All right then," Murgatroyd muttered, pouting a little.  "But afterward Prince Fluffers gets to rip your dog into little tiny pieces."

"Deal," Eleanor said happily.  The two girls hurried across the path, and Eleanor began waving madly to a woman who looked almost as tired as Mr. Finch and considerably more snappish.  "Hey, Mum!" she screeched.  "Look, it's Murgatroyd and she has a doggie of her own now too and I told her Poofie could beat up her old dog any day and so she wouldn't believe me 'cause she's being stupid so now I have to show her Poofie and _then maybe she'll believe me..."_

Eleanor had to pause for breath and Murgatroyd started in shrilly, but Remus didn't hear a word.  His gaze was darting over the ten feet of ground between him and Sirius, trying to calculate whether he could untie his friend from the bench before attracting unwelcome attention in the form of Murgatroyd, Ponytail Lady, or any other fearsome creatures.  Maybe, just maybe, his lucky house-elf's foot would work for once and he wouldn't end up ruing this day quite as much as he'd rued the previous one.  Or, for that matter, almost any other day involving Sirius.

"Psst!  Sirius!" he hissed, trying to look innocent and like part of the foliage.  [Think Birnam Wood.  That's right...that's right..._become_ the bush.  _Be_ the bush.  You _are_ a bush,] he told himself.  He really should have known better—none of his other positive thinking had worked so far.  But he was convinced that somewhere in there was that little core of optimism that just had to be nurtured and helped along...

[Yeah, right,] Remus thought.  But now was not the time to indulge in pessimism.  Sirius was peering over at him, a faintly accusing look in his blue eyes.  As Sirius' friend, Remus was all too familiar with this look.  It usually appeared when Sirius was in a spot of trouble caused primarily by his own stupidity and meant something like "_You_ got me into this, you get me out."  Any arguments that perhaps if Sirius had listened to him for once he wouldn't be in this mess were useless—no matter what, it was always Remus' fault.

Quietly, holding his breath, Remus began to creep out from his hiding place.  

Almost immediately, he realized why more people didn't creep around in broad daylight.  It was probably the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done.  Somehow, it was quite different in the dead of night when the moon cast eerie shadows on everything and sneaking around behind bushes seemed like a heroic and adventurous thing to do.  Now Remus just wished he could crawl into a hole somewhere and disappear.

He looked around furtively, very aware that he was failing miserably in his attempt to be inconspicuous.  The fact that nobody seemed to have noticed him yet was just a lucky fluke—sooner or later someone was going to look up and yell, "Hey, Mommy, look at the funny man with leaves in his hair!" and then it would all be over.

But he couldn't think about that now—he had a job to do!  Doing his best imitation of spies he had seen in Muggle movies, Remus crept stealthily over to the bench and started fumbling with Sirius' leash.  "Okay," he whispered.  "We'll get out of here and _then I'll get you for this, all right?"  Sirius ignored the threat haughtily, and Remus rolled his eyes as he tried to untie the knot anchoring the leash to the arm of the bench.  For a spoiled brat, Murgatroyd sure knew her knots..._

Two minutes later, Remus had decided that Murgatroyd most certainly did _not know her knots—whatever she had done with the poor leash didn't remotely resemble any kind of knot he had ever seen in his life.  Gritting his teeth, he glanced up from his grueling work and peered around to see if anyone had noticed anything unusual yet.  Nobody had.  _

Remus was quickly forming the opinion that the stupidest people in the world were not, as he had previously thought, Fudge's cronies in the Ministry of Magic—they were a dime a dozen right here in Little Whinging.  Of course, this whole inane idea of a pet show made that obvious in the first place.  What kind of people would actually organize an event so that their children could run rampant and wreak havoc to their little hearts' content?

Sighing, he turned back to the stubborn tangle—

Which was now, inexplicably, hanging limp in his hands.  Remus stared at it in astonishment, wondering whether luck had finally struck and he had accidentally pulled just the right loop to untie the whole thing.  Then, as a much more likely possibility struck him, his gaze darted back up to the bench.

Murgatroyd's father sat innocently reading his paper, apparently oblivious to the escape occurring right under his nose.  He very carefully did not look in Remus' direction, but Remus could have sworn he saw a slight smile hovering diffidently at the corners of his mouth.

For the first time since Sirius had shown up on his doorstep the previous day, Remus smiled in return.  Just once, it seemed, the universe was on his side.

He turned to Sirius, but his friend apparently needed no prompting.  Without a backward glance, he was working his way unobtrusively—or as unobtrusively as a dog his size could—toward those all-too-familiar bushes.  Remus looked around one last time to make sure they hadn't been noticed in the general chaos and followed carefully, surprised to find a new spring in his step.

A/N: My gosh, that was so long it isn't even funny.  Well, I don't know, maybe you did find it funny—personally, I'm just glad that they've apparently escaped without too much trouble.  Wait...what am I saying?  Remus just spent the last eight chapters agonizing over the fact that bad as his life may be, it gets much worse whenever Sirius shows up.  And if you're still depressed about anything with Sirius in it, don't be.  The shock wore off for me a long time ago, probably helped by the fact that my friend "A" drew me a cartoon of his death that makes me laugh my head off every time I look at it.  Yeah.  Anyway...Hopefully Coming a Lot Sooner Than This One Came: Chapter Nine.


	9. Dogged Pursuit

Disclaimer: The plot belongs to me.  All the good characters belong to Rowling.

A/N: Well.  It's another chapter of your favorite outdated story making fun of a dead character whom everyone misses!  Well, maybe not everyone.  I dunno, there must be _some_ Sirius-haters out there.  But there probably aren't any reading this story, for obvious reasons.  Unless, of course, they're reading it for the fun of seeing Sirius with a hangover...

Kelek: Yeah, I know what you mean.  The first chapters are definitely my favorites—I'm not sure what happened, really.  All I know is that the latest ones haven't been nearly as much fun.  Hopefully this one is a little better.  And actually, I appreciate your review—it may be the first real constructive criticism I've gotten so far.

For all the other folks who reviewed and didn't get mentioned, I'm incredibly sorry.  At the moment I just want to update since it's been so long, I'll get back to you in the next chapter.

Dogged Pursuit

Complete silence reigned for about half a mile, during which Remus walked quickly, looking straight ahead and trying not to make it too obvious that he was gritting his teeth in cold fury.  If Sirius noticed, he didn't give any indication.  Having escaped from Murgatroyd, he was probably already plotting his getaway—he must know that Remus was in a mood for bloodshed.

At last they had walked far enough that Remus was sure nobody was nearby to see them.  He stopped in his tracks, turned around, and glared at Sirius.  "Well?" he said, enunciating the word as he only did when he was repressing his urge to kill.  "And what do _you_ have to say for yourself?"

Sirius blinked innocently.  _"Oh_ no you don't!" Remus seethed.  "The innocent look is not going to work this time, buddy.   I want an explanation for the events of yesterday evening."

He waited, his arms folded.  After a few seconds, the dog seemed to sigh, shivered a little, and transformed into the young man Remus had last seen making a fool of himself in front of several very stupid Muggles.  His eyes were a little bloodshot from a combination of hangover and Cass, but overall he seemed in better shape than Remus himself.  Hardly surprising, considering that in the last day Remus had watched his precious kitchen be taken over by a madman, had his only broomstick chopped into kindling, fallen out of a tree...The list went on and on.

_"Well?"_ he repeated.  "I'm sure you have a very good excuse."  [You'd better,] he thought darkly.  [You'd just better.]

Sirius rolled his eyes a little.  "Look, Remus, don't be like that," he said placatingly.  "I know it _seems_ bad, but someday we'll look back on this and laugh.  Right?"  His nervous laughter quickly died away as he saw the look in his friend's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Remus," he said in his best sincerely insincere tones.  "I know that what I did was wrong and in the future I will endeavor not to get drunk while cooking.  Especially in your kitchen," he added apologetically.

Remus kept staring at him, unmoved.  If Sirius honestly thought he was going to let him get away with what he'd done, he was an even bigger fool than he seemed.  Somebody was going to pay for the loss of his sanity, and it wasn't going to be Remus.

He advanced on Sirius until they were six inches apart, spitting out each word.  "You ruined my evening.  You humiliated me.  And..."  He had to stop for a moment to get his emotions under control before he could trust himself to speak.  "You used up all my precious rum making that demonic..._rum cake_...of yours."

Sirius backed up a step or two, smiling now.  "Oh, is that all?" he asked, shaking his head.  "Well, really, Remus, there's no need to get upset over a little thing like that.  There'll always be more rum."

This was entirely the wrong thing to say, and he realized this as soon as he had said it.  His face went a very satisfying shade of white and he began backing up more quickly, raising his hands in self-defense.

It was too late.  "MORE RUM?" bellowed Remus, launching himself at him.  "MORE RUM?  I SPENT MY LAST MUGGLE MONEY ON THAT BOTTLE!"  Sirius barely had time to look utterly terrified before Remus was on him, punching and kicking with a strength born of grief.

"Don't—oof—overreact, Remus!"  Sirius yelled desperately.  "It's not good for you—yahh!—anyway!  You shouldn't drown your sorrows with liquor!"

"Right," Remus snarled.  "Only it's okay when you're _cooking_, huh?  Because _cooking_ is more important to you than friendship!"  Sirius started to protest, but then he apparently had a better idea—dodging Remus' blows, he scurried out of his reach and had put a large tree between them before Remus realized that his prey had escaped him.

Breathing hard, Sirius called, "You're distraught, Remus.  It's all a natural and normal part of life.  So I think I'll just wait over here until you calm down and can talk reasonably, okay?"  He ducked behind the tree just in time to escape a flying pinecone from Remus.

"Reasonably," Remus panted.  "Right."  How _dare_ he talk about being reasonable?  Sirius Black, he of the unhealthy culinary obsession, was actually telling Remus to be reasonable?  The nerve of that man...

[Okay, so he's an idiotic jerk,] Remus told himself.  [So what's new?  You can handle this.  Really.]

"Fine.  I'm being reasonable," he told Sirius, trying not to squeak indignantly.  "Since you've been nothing but trouble since the minute you showed up, I think I'm just going to very reasonably go home and leave you here _all alone_."  He spoke the last words in the singsong voice he used to use when telling ghost stories in the dormitory late at night.

It worked just as it always had.  A small whimper came from behind the tree, and then Sirius said in a small voice, "But...but I don't know the way to your house from here."

"You're not going to my house," Remus said coldly.  "I've had enough.  I'm sure the rabid squirrels will be happy to keep you company.  They come out after dark, with their little red eyes glinting in the moonlight and their little needle-sharp fangs ready to suck the life out of any unwary people wandering in the park..."

Sirius had always been gullible about things like that.  "No!" he gasped.  "Not the rabid squirrels!"

Remus just couldn't resist.  "Think about it, Sirius.  All those squirrels you chased over the years...coming back to haunt you with their sharp claws and bushy tails.  Remember that one squirrel in the Forbidden Forest?  The one you scared up a tree and then barked at for half an hour?  It wants revenge, Sirius.  They _all_ want revenge."

A piercing scream made Remus wince and cover his ears.  It was followed by several more.  Apparently, Remus had touched on one of Sirius' deep-seated fears—the fear that all his past rodent victims would gang up and attack him in full force.

"For goodness sake, Sirius," he said in disgust.  "It's only nine-thirty in the morning.  I'm sure you have plenty of time to escape."  He had known Sirius was wimpy, but this was ridiculous!  "I guess I'd better be going now," he called loudly, trying to hide his amusement.  "Maybe I'll see you later.  Who knows?  I might come and visit you in the hospital."

"No, please!  Please, Remus!  Don't go!"  Remus pretended to ignore him, grinning maniacally as he turned away.  He started to whistle very loudly, an old ballad about monsters that ate little boys who stayed out alone after dark.  The pitiful pleas for help got louder.

"Doooon't leeeeaaave meeee!"  That was more than Remus could stand.  He started to laugh, shaking silently as he walked off.  It was very hard to feel sorry for Sirius when he was busy begging for protection from rabid squirrels...

Half an hour later, Remus decided that events had definitely taken a turn for the better.  With Sirius gone, his life would get back to normal at last.  Why had he let him into the house in the first place anyway?  Oh, well...it was all in the past now.  Perhaps one day he _would_ look back on it and laugh.

Wait...Remus darted a glance at the line of trees on his left.  They stood there innocently, absolutely denying the possibility that he had just heard a suspicious sound.  A suspicious sound that sounded suspiciously like a twig breaking underfoot.  Hmm...

Oh.  Of course.  "No, Sirius!" he yelled.  "You are not going to follow me home."  There was no sound.  "Hmmph," Remus muttered.  "Thinks he can fool me, does he?  Well, NOBODY FOOLS REMUS LUPIN!" he shouted to the not-quite-empty landscape.  "You may think you're smart, but you're as dumb as...as..."  Words failed him.  He continued walking, holding his head up high.  

Another sound, this one louder and accompanied by muffled cursing.  "Ha!" Remus cried.  "I knew it!"  He was about to pounce on the source of the sound, but then he remembered his object—to keep Sirius from following him home.

"You'll never make it, Sirius!" he shouted defiantly.  "I am absolutely _not_ keeping you under my roof for another second.  Do you hear me?"  Dumb question—how could Sirius help but hear him?

No, wait...that wasn't a good thing.  That meant Sirius would be able to keep following him unless he did something drastic.  Something like...

"BANZAI!" Remus yelled, diving into the near edge of an enormous and conveniently placed thicket.  He bravely ignored the thorns, twigs, small birds, and other obstacles, battling his way through the tangle.  Ha!  Let Sirius follow if he could—or dared.  Probably too scared of the rabid squirrels, Remus thought with a grin.

Maybe, he realized after a while, this hadn't been such a great idea.  True, he had probably lost Sirius by now.  However, he had also lost approximately half of his clothing and about five years off his life.  This was really not the way to travel.

Sighing, he paused for the first time and looked around.  He didn't know how long he had been traveling, but he guessed that it must be at least noon.  [Time for a break,] Remus thought tiredly.  [I definitely need a break.  Being stealthy is hard work.]

He sat down on the ground, panting a little.  It felt so good to just sit there and rest for a minute.  Rest...he had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, and the suffering he had been put through was more than sufficient to make him utterly exhausted.  It was so nice to be able to sit and rest...

With a start, Remus sat bolt upright.  Had he fallen asleep?  What time was it?  Had Sirius found him?  He looked around apprehensively.

The sun was setting.

[What?!] Remus yelped silently.  It couldn't already be nightfall...could it?  He had just sat down for a moment...How could he have been so stupid and weak-willed?

Ah, well, no point in crying over spilled milk.  Getting to his feet with a yawn, Remus rubbed his eyes.  He would have to walk fast to get back to his house before dawn—he didn't want people wondering why he was walking home at three in the morning.  He really didn't think he was up to thinking fast enough to answer well-meant questions like, "Where _have_ you been?" or "What happened?"

[Right,] he told himself.  [Just keep going for a little while longer...just a little more now...]  It wasn't working.  He started to hum, but then remembered that Sirius might be lurking nearby, hoping to find him.

The sun had set now, and the only light came from the crescent moon, which seemed pitifully small.  [It's okay.  Just keep walking.  Don't think about tripping and breaking your nose.  Don't think about running into trees.  Don't think about—]

Remus stopped short, his heart pounding wildly.  He had just heard a sound.  A sound made by something very close by.  A sound that...

"Aha!" he yelled into the darkness.  "I've found you now, Sirius!  And I still refuse to take you home with me!"  Silence.

Strange—he would have thought that Sirius would have shown himself by now.  At this time of night, a coward like him certainly wouldn't want to be alone in a place like this!  A somewhat creepy place where more and more strange noises seemed to be following Remus as he moved through the darkness.  In fact, a definitely creepy place that was giving him goose bumps.

The key, he told himself, was just to walk faster.  The faster he walked, the faster he would get home.  Home, where he could go to bed and forget that all of this had ever happened.  Home, where there wouldn't be bone-chilling noises surrounding him.

[Breathe.  Just breathe.  That's right.  Nice and calm now...]  He really didn't know why he bothered trying to calm himself down—it was probably the most useless thing he could do under the circumstances.  His pace picked up as he tried not to imagine what kinds of animals might be hiding in the shadows...

A sudden, high-pitched chittering noise directly in front of him stopped him cold, his heart about to leap up through his throat and collide with his brain.  Small, glittering, reddish eyes watched him, shining in the moonlight.

He only had time to think, [Squirrels.  Rabid, ravenous squirrels,] before he fell over in a dead faint.

A/N: Don't you love Remus the coward?  Who would have thought that two grown men could be sent into a screaming panic by the threat of rabid squirrels?  Where is Sirius in the meantime?  Has he, perhaps, found his own way to Remus' house and taken over the kitchen?  Shall I stop asking questions now?  Thought so.  Anyway, I did enjoy this chapter and I hope the sheer randomness wasn't too much for you.  Of course, if you have a problem with sheer randomness you're not reading this story anyway, are you?  Something about the whole rum cake business...Coming Soon: Chapter Ten.


	10. Dog Eat Dog World

Disclaimer: Remus and Sirius belong to J.K. Rowling.  But I really wish I owned them.  Maybe I'll steal them someday…I so did not just say that.

A/N: I love this story.  I really do.  It's so much fun.  This chapter sort of turns into an _It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World_ kinda thing.  How many other people have seen that movie?  It's so great!

Zymurgy: It's coming!  The end is near!  Only one more chapter, I promise.  Actually I didn't fall prey so much to rabid squirrels as to rabid homework.

Laughing Dragoness: Thanks!  Wow, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, people recommend my story…or they did back when I updated more than every six months.

Pequenino: Thanks.  I did finish Children of the Mind, but I'm not quite sure what First Meetings is.  Tell me quick so I can read it!

Valleri: Nope, sorry, never seen 1776.  Just enjoy the name "Rubicon."

NeVa: Thank you!  I love this story, but sometimes I just have trouble with it, I don't know why.  The plot ended up going in all kinds of weird directions…but it's almost over now.  *sniff*

insane werewolf luva: Cool name.  But Remus is mine.  :)  I agree, rabid squirrels do rock.  Except when you're within twenty feet of them, then not so much.

DavidCamp: I like the chapter titles myself.  I thought I was running out of ideas but apparently not.

Itnikki: Yes, the second chapter is my personal favorite.  I wrote it at about midnight, which explained some of it.  Glad you liked the last one.

Sorrow Floats: I don't know what made me think of Murgatroyd, but it is the best name.  Only every time I think about it I think of this little fuzzy alien creature in a Bruce Coville book…

Rayne-Jelly: I'm so sorry.  Rabid squirrels at three in the morning tend to make many people hysterical.  I know, because I wrote it at three in the morning.

Forgive me if I didn't reply to your review, but I will in the next chapter.  Which should come soon (and for once I mean it!).  And it'll be the last chapter too…

Dog-Eat-Dog World

Remus woke up with a huge bump on his head and no idea where he was.  He decided after a few seconds of introductory pain and dizziness that he didn't really want to know where he was, but it was too late by then.

He remembered everything.  The fight with Sirius, falling asleep, and the squirrels.  Especially the squirrels.

Suddenly gripped by an irrational terror of rodents, Remus sat bolt upright and stared wildly around him.  Mercifully, it was daytime.  At least he wouldn't have to worry about strange animals—now that he was fully awake, he absolutely refused to admit that he had been scared by stories of rabid squirrels.  No doubt there had been truly dangerous animals in the woods and his caution had been justified.

But still…squirrels…

[First priority is getting home before Sirius,] Remus reminded himself.  [Think about getting home.]  Right.  Home.

Remus wondered which way _was_ home.

"This is not good," he told a sparrow.  The sparrow chirped at him, but didn't seem inclined to be sympathetic.  Remus considered catching it somehow and eating it for breakfast.

Okay.  There had to be landmarks of some kind that he could use to figure out which way to go.  Aha!  He remembered that tree over there from last night.  He definitely remembered it.  It had distinctive leaves.  There was no way he could possibly mistake that tree.

Glad to have found some point of reference, Remus tried to position himself the way he had been the night before.  Hmm…he thought he had seen it from this angle…

There was another one.

Remus paused in confusion.  Another tree…?  But that one was unique!  Still, there was no denying that he now noticed at least ten almost identical trees in the woods immediately around him.

[This is ridiculous,] Remus thought in fury.  He was certainly no woodsman, but this seemed excessively unlucky even for him.  Obviously, some hostile force was responsible for this.

"Sirius?" he called, a thought suddenly striking him.  As he had learned from long and hard experience, anything was possible with Sirius Black, up to and including rearranging the trees in a forest.  "Are you out there?"

He hadn't seriously expected any answer—after all, if Sirius were out there working against him, would he tell him?  Still, it made him feel a little better to know that he was considering all the possibilities.  Life might have dealt him some hard blows, but he was still as sharp as ever.

"Right," he muttered to himself.  The first thing was to get on his way to somewhere.  From somewhere, he was pretty sure he could find his way home.  And once he got home, he would lock all his doors and forget about Sirius and this whole adventure.  Maybe even run himself a hot bubble bath.

After twenty minutes of walking, Remus stumbled upon a road.  Maybe his luck wasn't as bad as it seemed.  Throwing away his last shreds of dignity, he began jumping up and down and waving at passing cars.  They ignored him.

Feeling rather desperate, Remus looked around for anything that would attract people's attention.  What he wouldn't give for a couple of Dungbombs…Unfortunately, no Dungbombs seemed to be forthcoming.  Plenty of rocks, but Remus suspected that throwing rocks at cars would be more likely to get him a lawsuit than a ride.

Defeated for the moment, Remus sat down and watched the cars go by.  He could make a sign!…No, wait, he didn't have any paper or ink.  Unable to think of anything else, he got up for another round of useless waving at people.

Of course!  Remus smacked himself on the forehead, unable to believe that he hadn't thought of it before.  Now he would just have to wait…As the nearest car approached, Remus watched it like a hawk, gauging the right moment.  Then, when he judged the time was right, he sprang in front of the car.

The car stopped with a very satisfying screech of brakes, very nearly causing a pileup as all the cars behind it scrambled to turn into other lanes or pass it somehow.  Remus smiled cheerfully at the driver, a middle-aged woman, and her three children.

The woman glared balefully at him, but Remus approached cautiously and tapped on her window.  "Can you give me a ride?" he asked loudly.

For the next thirty seconds, he was treated to a discourse on why she most certainly would _not_ give him a ride.  Who did he think he was, jumping right in front of her car?  He could have been run over!  Remus noted with some concern that this last possibility didn't seem to horrify her as much as he would have liked.

"Ah, but I wasn't run over," he inserted when she paused for breath.  "And I still need a ride."  Being annoyingly persistent always seemed to work in Muggle movies.

It didn't work here.  With a yell, Remus jumped out of the way just in time as the driver floored the accelerator pedal and zoomed off into the distance.  "People these days," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.  "Absolutely no consideration at all."

Amazingly enough, Remus' brush with death was followed by almost instant success.  After about a minute, a faded blue sedan pulled over.  "Hey buddy, need a ride?" a college-age boy asked, leaning out of the window.

This was almost too good to be true.  "Yeah," Remus said gratefully, hopping into the backseat.  "Thanks."

He was so gratified at his good luck that it was a few moments before he remembered to ask which way they were going.  "Surrey, mate," the boy said cheerfully.  Remus groaned inwardly and wondered whether he would ever get home.

As the car obligingly pulled over so he could get out, Remus' attention was attracted by a truck going the other way.  A perfectly ordinary pickup truck, except for one thing…the large black dog in the bed of the truck.  A very familiar dog.  A dog who seemed to be laughing silently at Remus…

[Sirius…?] he thought.  Then: "Follow that truck!" he bellowed, jumping back into the car.  The kid, who had always secretly wished that something exciting and mysterious like this would happen to him, gave Remus a somewhat awed look and didn't argue.  That was just fine with Remus.

With much squealing and screeching, the car made a U-turn in the middle of the road.  Remus clenched his teeth and held on to the seat in front of him.  "What are you—_be careful!"_ he shrieked as the car nearly avoided colliding with several motorcycles.

"This is so cool!" the kid enthused.  He actually turned around in his seat while keeping his foot on the accelerator, much to Remus' horror, and offered his hand.  "I'm Steve, Steve Hamilton.  You on the run or something?"  The thought obviously excited him immensely.

"Or something," Remus muttered, his eyes fixed on the road.  Maybe, just maybe he would survive this…but he didn't quite see how.  It was a little late to get out of the car, though.

"Wow," Steve said happily, an idiotic grin plastered across his face.  "You know, this is really neat.  Are you a spy?"  Remus gritted his teeth.  "Oh, I get it!  If you tell me, you'll have to kill me, right?  Huh, right?"

_That_ was certainly an appealing thought.  "So do you have secret documents or something?  What about—"

"Steve?" Remus interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and drive."

"Okay," Steve said equably.  He was now gaining on the truck, and Remus could see Sirius grinning at him—unmistakably a grin, though a very canine one—and generally looking satisfied with himself.

Remus peered at the speedometer.  Not fast enough.  "Faster," he told Steve.  Steve was only too happy to oblige.

At this point Remus realized something sobering.  He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do, now that he had almost caught up with Sirius.  He couldn't just stay behind him the whole way back home, even assuming that was where they were heading.  What was he going to do?

The question was academic.  Looking up again, Remus saw with a shock that the bed of the pickup was empty.  Sirius had made his escape sometime in the last ten seconds.

Remus felt an unexpected wash of gratitude toward his friend.  Unwittingly, Sirius had provided him with the perfect means of escape from Steve.  

"Pull over!" he ordered suddenly.  Steve did so, and Remus could hear an ominous rattling from the depths of the chassis.  He hadn't made his escape a moment too soon.

"Thanks a bunch," he said insincerely, throwing himself out of the car before Steve could start another conversation about secret agents.  As an afterthought, he called to Steve, "Drive more safely, young man, or they'll revoke your license."

"Whaaaaaaat liiiiiceeeense?" Steve yelled back as he zoomed out of sight.  Remus groaned and suddenly felt rather sick to his stomach.

After looking around for a moment, he set off determinedly, heading for a clump of large bushes—or small trees, he couldn't be sure which.  At any rate, there was nowhere else for Sirius to hide.  He was going to come to terms with his problems now if it was the last thing he did.

That phrase bothered him.  The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him, the more he thought about it, the more it…[Get control of yourself, man,] he thought sternly.  [Sirius is not going to hurt you.  If anything, it'll be the other way around.]  That was a tempting thought, but he didn't have the time to indulge in daydreams at the moment.

"Sirius?" he called.  Hesitantly, he stepped into the bushes and peered around.  There was no answer, but then he hadn't seriously expected one.  Right.  Plan B.

Except he didn't have a Plan B.  What was he going to do?  How was he going to get out of this mess, get home, and get back to his relatively normal life?

And suddenly he knew.  He knew exactly what he had to do, distasteful though it was, and he determined to get it over with.  There was no help for it.

"Sirius!" he shouted again.  Something rustled nearby.  "Sirius?  Look, I realize the past few days have been a little…hectic…"  That didn't quite cover it.  "And tempers have gotten out of hand.  But don't you think it's time we resolved our differences?"

He waited.  At last Sirius spoke, his voice a little muffled.  "In English, please."

"I don't know my way home and I bet you don't either," Remus said flatly.  "But if we work together we may make it back before we starve."

There was a considering silence.  Then: "A truce?" Sirius asked.

Remus took a deep breath.  "Truce," he said firmly.  He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

A/N: Yeah.  It's been a looooooong time since I updated.  Sorry about that.  Nobody can assign projects like my geometry teacher.  Believe me.  But once it's over I'll probably celebrate by staying up all night writing.  I just can't wait until the end of May…free time, here I come.  Please review and I'll see how soon I can write the last chapter!  *dun dun DUN*


	11. Dog's Breakfast

Disclaimer: I own fishses.  Give them to us raw and wriggling!  You keep nasty characterses.  Or at least Sirius.

A/N: Last chapter!  Yes, after a year and a half it's the last chapter at last.  Wow, I update slowly, don't I?  Eleven chapters in a year and a half…how sad is that?  Short advertisement: Read edgy wedgy's stories.  They don't always make sense (take out the word "always" there) but they're hilarious.  End advertisement.

Katie: Yes, Sirius is tricky like that.  And I think Remus will be more careful who he gets rides from in future…

anna: Yeah, it is unfair to Remus.  He's my very favorite character.  Which, of course, is why I just had to torture him like that…come on, he's practically perfect in the books.  Had to make him neurotic.

Itnikki: Thanks!  Hopefully, this fits the "humor and action" bill…

Laughing Dragoness: I know!  It's over…sniff sniff…but there are always other stories.  Glad you like it.

One Feather: Well…evil grin…just wait and see what happens in this chapter!  If you want I could scan in A's comic of The Death of Sirius and email it to you…

Dog's Breakfast

"I think it's this way," Sirius said at last.  They were both poring over a map Remus had obtained from a gas station fifteen minutes earlier.

Remus looked at the spot Sirius was pointing at.  "Sirius?  I think you have it upside down."

"Oh." Sirius turned the map the other way and continued, undaunted.  "Eeny, meeny, miney, _this_ way!"  His finger landed on a spot by the left edge of the map, which he peered at intently.  "This is it, right?  Right?"

Remus sighed.  Making a truce with Sirius hadn't been such a good idea after all.  True, misery loved company, but misery with company was still misery.  And they were still lost.

"Give it up, Sirius," he told him.  Sirius glared at him and turned back to the map.  Remus rolled his eyes and looked around, hoping for the millionth time to see some familiar landmark.  He didn't.

Sirius was now spinning around with his eyes closed.  He came to a stop facing a nearby road.  "How about this way?" he asked.  Noticing Remus' skeptical look, he snapped defensively, "What?  Do you have a better idea?"

Remus started to make a sarcastic comment.  Then he thought about it, stopped, and closed his mouth again.  "Didn't think so," Sirius said smugly.  Remus snarled a little.

After an awkward silence, Sirius asked, "Shouldn't we be going somewhere?  Like…in _that_ direction?"  He pointed.

"Sirius," Remus said patiently, "we are not going anywhere.  Not until we know where we're going and have some way to get there.  Okay?"  Plainly it wasn't okay with Sirius, but he didn't argue.  Instead, he plopped down on the ground and sat deep in thought.  Well, at least he was quiet.

It didn't last long.  "Remus!" Sirius cried, springing up excitedly.  "I have an idea!"  Remus winced.  Ideas with Sirius were never good news.  He refused to humor his friend by asking him what this new, possibly suicidal idea was.

"But I'll need a disguise," Sirius said meditatively.  "Like…like…"  His gaze wandered over to the convenience store by the side of the nearest road.  There was a display of cheap sunglasses and ugly straw hats just inside, easily visible from the window.  A sign by the door said, "Enjoy a Tropical Summer!" in orange and green letters meant to look like rotting bamboo sticks.

Remus followed the direction of his gaze.  _"Oh _no," he said in horror.  _"Oh_ no no no no.  I am _not_, under any circumstances, going to help you steal sunglasses and a hat to disguise yourself.  Never."

Sirius looked at Remus with new respect.  "What a brilliant idea, Remus!  Let's try that."  Remus hit himself on the forehead and vowed that he would die before getting involved in another of Sirius's harebrained schemes.

"I vowed that I would die before getting involved in another of your harebrained schemes," he grumbled ten minutes later, as they approached the convenience store stealthily.  "This is theft, Sirius!  It's a crime, we could be arrested by Muggle authorities, you could be recognized, we could all…"

Sirius grinned, apparently unconcerned.  "Do you want to get home or not?" he asked sensibly.  There was no good answer to that, so Remus kept his mouth shut and focused on staying hidden behind a large bush.

"Okay, here's the plan," Sirius continued.  "You buy a candy bar to distract the cashier while I grab some glasses and a hat.  Should work like a charm."

Remus was too tired to argue with this stunning display of intelligence.  He just shook his head and wondered what Muggle jails were like.

"Go!" Sirius hissed, shoving him forward.  Remus entered the store as nonchalantly as he could, trying to whistle a little.  He didn't dare look behind him to see what was happening.  Instead, he headed straight for the candy and began examining it, talking loudly to himself.

"I wonder which one I should pick?" he mused, trying to position himself so Sirius would be invisible from the counter.  "Chocolate with caramel and peanuts or caramel with peanuts and chocolate?"  He wasn't making any sense, but it wasn't necessary to make sense at the moment.  The point was that the clerk did indeed seem distracted by his rambling.  Quickly, he darted a glance over his shoulder.  Sirius was at the display, being as unobtrusive as possible.

"Or," Remus continued, "should I buy the peanut-product-free crisped-rice-caramel-blend covered with semi-sweet chocolate and almonds?"  The clerk frowned at him.  "But wait!" he cried.  "I forgot!  I'm allergic to almonds!"  Surely, surely Sirius must be done by now!

"Sir?" the cashier asked.  "Can I help you?"

Remus stole a glance behind him.  Sirius was gone.  "Oh, um, no," he hedged quickly.  "I just remembered I…can't have chocolate.  I'm lactose-intolerant."  Then he bolted, hoping he hadn't seemed too suspicious.

Sirius was waiting behind the bushes.  "Well," he said brightly, "I think that went rather well."  Remus glared at him.

With Remus's help, Sirius was soon sufficiently disguised.  His straw hat was pulled down practically to his chin, and the sunglasses would distract anyone from recognizing him in the event that he was de-chapeaued.  Remus wondered if "de-chapeaued" was a word, but decided to pursue the matter later.

"And now we just get a ride," Sirius said happily.  He looked up and down the road, searching for a likely candidate.

Remus suddenly realized what was wrong with this.  "But that's where we were before!" he exploded.  "We tried it before, _remember?_  And did it work?"

"No," Sirius admitted a little sullenly.  "But this time is different!  Just watch and see."  He proceeded to jump up and down, waving at passing cars.  "Hey, you!  Yeah, you, we need a ride!"  Remus seriously doubted this would work.

After five minutes, Remus allowed himself a sardonic smirk.  "Come on, Sirius," he scoffed.  "It's useless.  I told you s—"

A car pulled up roughly two inches from Remus, making him jump backward.  It was red, partly from paint and partly from the rust that seemed to be holding it together at the seams.  All in all, Remus wondered if his first impression had been correct.  It certainly wasn't a car in any normal sense of the word…

"Good morning," Sirius said cheerfully, leaning into the open window.  "We're looking for directions to a Mr. Remus Lupin's house.  Can you point us on our way?"  As an afterthought, he added, "Or ideally drive us there."

The two occupants of the car looked at him rather dubiously.  They seemed to be a married couple, a man and woman of about fifty.  "And you are…?" the woman began.

"I'm…I'm…" Sirius dithered for a few seconds, trying to think up a believable name.  "Bond.  Jake Bond," he said at last.  "Pleased to meet you.  And I'll let my friend introduce himself."  He beamed at Remus.

_What?_  Remus could have strangled Sirius, or Bond, or whatever his name was.  What was he thinking?  "I'm, er, well—" he began.  "Sort of, erm…"

_"Illinois Jones,"_ Sirius volunteered in a clearly audible whisper.  Remus frowned at him, and he replied with a look that promised dire consequences if Remus didn't play along.

Remus nodded vigorously.  "Yes, Illinois Jones.  Yes, yes.  Yes.  Quite."

"I…see," the man said at last.  "And why do you need to get to Mr. Lupine's house?"

"Lupin," Remus corrected.  "Do you know where he lives?"

The woman nodded.  "Oh yes, I do, driven past it loads of times.  But why?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other.  "Well, you see—" Remus began, still at a loss for words.  He nodded and grimaced furiously at Sirius, indicating that he should make something up quickly.

"We're itinerant minstrels," Sirius blurted.  "Anniversaries, birthday parties, you know, all that stuff.  And we have a performance down there this afternoon."

"Right," Remus agreed.  "Minstrels."  Then he registered what he was saying and stared at Sirius.  Itinerant minstrels?

Both the man and woman were smiling now.  "Are you really?" the woman asked, looking delighted.  "Why, so are Wayne and I!  Isn't it a small world?"

Whatever Remus had expected, it wasn't this.  "You mean there really are itinerant minstrels?" he muttered to Sirius.  Sirius shrugged, obviously not wanting to spoil a free ride.  Remus was inclined to agree.

At least until they got themselves settled in the backseat of the car.  "Oh, but where are your banjos?" asked the woman, who had introduced herself as Billie.  "Have you lost them?"

"Er, sent them on ahead," Remus lied.  "Safer and easier, you know."  Wayne and Billie accepted this, to his immense relief.

However, his relief didn't last long.  As they zoomed toward home and safety, Billie turned around in her seat to face the two of them.  "It's so seldom you get fine young men like you interested in this sort of thing, you know," she enthused.  "Why, when I was a young thing minstrels were real minstrels, eh, Wayne?"  Wayne grunted.

"You simply must play a little for us when we get to Mr. Lupin's house," Billie continued.  "I'm sure you're excellent musicians."  She smiled happily at them.

Remus's heart almost stopped.  What could he say?  What could he do?  Making a run for it at the next intersection came to mind, but he was fairly sure that would only attract unwanted attention.  He looked imploringly at Sirius, who shook his head almost imperceptibly in reply.  If even Sirius couldn't think of an escape, they were surely doomed!

"…But really, there's nothing to beat an old sentimental ballad, I always say…" Billie was rattling on as they pulled up in front of Remus's house.  "These newfangled pop songs always make me ill."

Ill?  Remus was suddenly struck by an inspiration.  "Follow my lead," he muttered to Sirius, who nodded and began practicing his convincing look.

Opening his car door quickly, Remus flashed Wayne and Billie an insincere grin and started, "Well, thank you folks so much for—"  He broke off and doubled over, making the most painful, pitiful sounds he could think of.  Clutching his stomach in "agony", he nodded fiercely at Sirius.

Sirius needed no prompting.  "Oh, no, not again!" he cried, hopping out of the car and running to his friend's side.  "It's his rare Amazonian liver ailment acting up!"  Remus inwardly wondered at Sirius's amazing talent for inventing names and kept groaning.

"Amazonian…?" Wayne asked, confused.

"Yes," Sirius panted, putting an arm around Remus's shoulders to support him.  "Not immediately life-threatening with proper treatment, but astoundingly contagious."

"But then why are you near him?" Billie cried, looking concerned.  "Shouldn't you—"  She started to get out of the car.

"The blue hives should be coming any second now," Sirius told her.  "Very painful and itchy.  Lots of pus."  He steered Remus toward his front door.  "But his medicine is inside, fortunately."

The woman seemed about to protest again, so Remus took matters into his own hands.  "Thanks—for the—ride," he gasped, still clutching his stomach.  "I'll be—all—right.  But watch—out—very contagious—"  He dug in his pocket and found the key to his door as the car hastily zoomed off.

Once inside, Remus almost collapsed with relief.  "Home sweet home," he murmured.  It had been so long…

His happy reunion with sanity was interrupted by the realization that Sirius had disappeared.  Again.  This was never good news.

"Sirius?  Sirius!" Remus yelled, looking around the room.  He was gone.  What was he going to do now?  Sirius couldn't be trusted alone!  Why, he was about as responsible as…as…as…

A thought struck him.  Of course!  The kitchen!  This hypothesis was confirmed by a loud groan from the general vicinity of the kitchen.  Remus ran, hoping his house was not in the process of being totally demolished.

Sirius sat on the floor by the oven, looking more woebegone than Remus had ever seen him.  He turned to Remus, grief-stricken.

"I don't believe it," he said.  "The rum cake's burnt."

A/N: Poor Sirius…ah ha ha ha ha…I feel so sorry for him.  Not really.  Anyway…that's all, folks.  Story's over.  Hope you liked it as much as I did.  Especially the second chapter, that one still makes me laugh.  So…little self-promotion here…read my other stuff!  I will update them all someday, really, I promise!  And thanks to everyone who helped give me abbreviations and stuff, even when I was dense and kept asking about yaoi for like three chapters.  At this point they're changing Girl Scout requirements so I may not need that for what I'm thinking of, but I have learned a lot.  And now, the whole point of this!  breaks into song So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye…lalalala la la la la, lalalala la la…


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